Chapter Twenty-Three
Will you help me?
How could he not? It was in Lucian’s nature to help people, and he especially wanted to help her.
Help her get over her inhibitions, help her out of her clothing, help her discover the delights to be found in be—
“Yes, of course I will,”
he said, mentally clamping down on all salacious thoughts.
Or at least trying to.
His father was here, as was his father’s enemy, which meant the situation was the least salubrious to any kind of salacity, in a sarcophagus or out of it. And judging by the expression on the man’s face—well, if that wasn’t enough to dissuade any passionate feelings he might have, then he might as well admit he was a lost cause.
God damn it. I am a lost cause.
Because he wanted her. He wanted to spend his life with her, show her what it was to chase adventure and romance. She could teach him how to be calm and measured but still have fun. Combined, they would be formidable: responsible, charming, kind, intelligent, and gracious.
But that was just his imagination hoping for something more. The reality was that she had her own future, one she deserved to have. She had never mentioned developing feelings for him; if anything, he was only good for a dalliance, for getting something out of her system.
“Charades?”
“Pardon?” he said.
She gave him a narrowed look. “I was suggesting things we could do to distract our parents.”
Lucian glanced around. “This is a dinner party. Shouldn’t we just . . . eat?”
Diantha rolled her eyes, looking a lot like her younger sister. “Yes, we’ll eat, but we’ll have to be prepared for any circumstance.”
“You mean . . . prepared for spontaneity?”
She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him, and she was about to say something—likely something cutting—when Lady Sneed spoke.
“Everyone,”
she said, clapping her hands, “let’s go in to dinner.”
The duke went to stand by Lady Sneed’s side, prepared to escort her in. The Courtenays followed, and then Lord Sneed took Diantha’s arm, leading her into the dining room.
“You’re stuck with me,”
Drusilla said to Lucian, her expression saucy.
He took her arm, smiling down at her. “I can think of no one I’d rather be stuck with.”
“I know that is not true,”
Drusilla replied, nodding significantly toward her sister. “It’s obvious how you feel about her.”
“It is?”
he said quickly.
“And I’m fairly certain she could be persuaded to feel the same way about you. She has some vision of going off and living on a swampy island somewhere, free to make plans as she wants, with no excitement at all.”
She nudged his side. “You are far preferable.”
“High praise,”
Lucian said dryly.
She smacked his arm. “I’m being serious. For once.”
She nodded toward Lady Diantha. “So what will you do about it?”
He shook his head. “I won’t stand in the way of what she wants.”
She put a hand on his sleeve. “No. I am determined, and you should know I always get what I want. And I want my sister to be happy, truly happy, not just choosing not to do what we would. That is like living a life defined by the negative.”
She wrinkled her nose as she spoke, leaving no doubt about her feelings on negative living.
Lucian settled her into her chair, then took the one beside her.
“She thinks she wants a life that is the opposite of our parents’ lives,”
Drusilla continued. She nodded when the footman approached with soup, and they waited as the hot liquid was ladled into her bowl. “But I know she is more like us than she wants to admit. It’s just that she’s always had to be the responsible one.”
She spoke matter-of-factly, but with a wistfulness that caught Lucian’s attention.
“Do you regret that?”
Lucian asked.
She shrugged. “I think she overreacts. She can’t wait for things to just settle as they might. She has to make sure she is in control of the outcome. I’ve tried saying that to her, but she just dismisses me.”
“So if she’s lived in this world so long, how do you imagine I can get her to embrace her wilder side?”
Never mind she had embraced her wilder side, if only as a temporary measure.
She turned to regard him, one eyebrow raised. “Because you’ve got all of this,”
she said, waving her index figure toward him. “You’re ridiculously attractive, you’re charming, and you’re adventurous, at least from what I hear.”
“My reputation is far worse than the reality, I assure you.”
She twisted her mouth. “Too bad. But still, Diantha would have to be an idiot to want a life on her own with no adventure at all rather than you.”
“It doesn’t matter,”
Lucian said softly. “Because we don’t have much time.”
The factory problem would be solved soon, and then she could go off on her own to her swampy island.
“Then, that means you have to hurry up,”
Drusilla said sharply. “We’re returning to the country at the end of the Season, which is in less than a month, and I expect Diantha will have made her plans by then.”
Less than a month. A few weeks not only to persuade her that he was the one she should be with for the rest of her life but also to demonstrate enough steadiness so she didn’t doubt him.
He already knew in his soul that he would be content, happy, with her forever. It wasn’t that he was a sexual reprobate, despite what most of the gossip said; he just liked pleasure. And he knew he would find pleasure with her. It would be more than enough for him.
“It is completely irresponsible to ignore what is happening with the lands and our farmers.”
The earl’s voice carried from near the head of the table through the entire room, stopping all other conversation.
“You only say that because you don’t understand the systems that are in place.”
Lucian’s father’s voice was also raised, and Lucian glanced over, seeing the duke’s face darken with emotion.
A glance over at Diantha revealed she was also in agitation, her eyes darting from one angry aristocrat to the other.
“My lady,”
Lucian said, rising from his chair to address Lady Sneed, “shall I propose a toast?”
Lady Sneed, far from looking upset at the commotion at her dinner party, looked amused. “Certainly, my lord.”
She nodded toward him. “Do go on.”
Lucian raised his glass and met each guest’s eyes in turn, lingering on Diantha’s face for a moment longer than the rest.
“I am so pleased to be here with you all,”
except for Mr. Bishop, “and I want to remind all of us how fortunate we are. Not everyone has the opportunity to do what they want in their lives—”
“Nor should they,”
the duke muttered, loud enough for Lucian to hear.
“But we do. We should embrace that opportunity, to see what we are given as a gift. A gift to cherish and nurture, to allow to grow into something remarkable.”
He returned his gaze to Diantha’s face. “Recognizing that you are something special, perhaps more than you even knew yourself, is a gift. Here’s to all of us being who we are.”
He tapped his glass against Drusilla’s, then lifted it in Diantha’s direction, since the table was too large to reach over. Did she understand what he was saying?
The wine was delicious and slid down with a welcome warmth.
“But you still don’t understand, Eldridge, that our farmers rely on us for support. We lend them the lands, yes, but they pay us well for that privilege. It is only fair that we ensure they are working as efficiently as possible. If that means we pay for certain improvements—”
“I am the Duke of Waxford, my lord. Not Eldridge.”
His father’s tone was icy.
The whole toast ploy had only delayed the explosion, not deterred it.
“I remember when we were at university, and we thought we could change the world,”
the earl said, his tone reminiscent. Lucian waited for his father to snap back, but for once, the duke was silent. “We wanted to do some good. And then the comet came, and we saw it as a portent.”
“Yes, you took it as a sign to do whatever you wanted, when the world doesn’t work that way!”
the duke exploded.
“It does if you’re us,”
the earl said simply. “But here we are, and since it seems we are still connected,”
he said, glancing toward his eldest daughter, “we should try to understand one another.”
“I believe,”
Diantha cut in before the duke could reply, “that this is a good opportunity, as my father and Lord Lucian said, to know who we are and who we could be.”
She nodded toward the duke. “Your grace, it is clear you are a gentleman with strong beliefs. As my father is. I know that you are intelligent enough to at least listen to another point of view, as my parents do. They often do things with which I do not agree—”
“If I had just had enough apples,”
the earl said in a rueful tone.
“But we work out a compromise.”
The duke gave Diantha a searching look. “You are quite sensible, it seems. Surprising, coming from your family. Perhaps you will be the one to change people’s minds about the Courtenays. I look forward to seeing it,”
he said, raising his glass toward Diantha.
Lucian saw her cheeks color at the compliment.
God damn it.
He was in love with her, and she seemed to be resolute in wanting to be sensible. Not adventurous. Not spontaneous. Not passionate.
Once she cleared him out of her system, it seemed she wanted to return to who she was.
God damn it.
For a moment, Diantha felt flush with possibility—that if she and Lucifer solved the factory problem they could somehow make her father and the duke reconcile. That her parents would listen to her more often than they did now, which was never.
That she would be able to live a quiet, simple life, free of surprises or complications.
But then she looked across the table at him and knew that future would not be possible. Not unless and until she was able to rid herself of this obsession that felt like a fever in her blood.
The truth was she wanted him. And he was not steady enough to tie herself to for the rest of her life, nor was he even interested. Never mind the duke would have apoplexy if there was even an intimation of a deeper connection between the two of them than just solving a problem.
It was hopeless.
“The next course, if you please,”
she heard Lady Sneed say.
She stared down at her soup, which she hadn’t touched. The footman whisked her bowl away, replacing it with a dinner plate emblazoned with the Sneed family crest.
Lord Sneed sat at the head of the table, while Lady Sneed took the foot, the duke at her right. She looked completely comfortable and obviously in charge of the situation. Diantha envied that aplomb. What would it be like to be assured of one’s place in the world? Not to have to fend off feckless fathers and impetuous mothers from certain danger?
“Your grace,”
Diantha heard Lady Sneed say, “do tell me what you think of the wine. We’ve had it especially imported from Portugal.”
Diantha didn’t hear the duke’s reply, but she did take a swallow of the wine, which had a heady aroma and an even more powerful taste.
The footman had reappeared, now with a tray filled with roast beef. Suddenly, she felt ill, as though she needed to get away from everything in the room—the food, the noise, the people. She rose, the footman stepping back, then nodded to her hostess. “If you’ll excuse me,”
she said, then rushed out of the room.
Once safely out, she leaned against the hallway wall, hearing her breath loud and harsh in the silence. Thank goodness there was nobody about. She just needed—
“My lady?”
He stood there, a look of concern on his face, still holding his napkin as though he had rushed out so quickly he didn’t have time to place it on his chair.
“Diantha,”
he said, stepping toward her. Hesitantly, as though approaching a wild animal. “Diantha, are you all right?”
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but shake her head. “No,”
she said at last. He took her hand, squeezing her fingers in his.
“What can I do?”
You can be someone I could actually be with. Not someone who wouldn’t be happy being settled and comfortable. I need settled comfort. I don’t need this exuberant chaos I seem to feel when I am with you. It isn’t safe for me. You’re not safe for me.
“Nothing.”
She disengaged her hand, then wiped the back of it on her cheeks. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying.
“That’s not true, though, is it?”
he asked, still speaking softly. “I could leave you alone so you can continue on the course you’ve set for yourself. I should be leaving you alone—I know this, this madness between us is just that. I can’t bear to see you upset, Diantha.”
That wasn’t what she wanted at all. But he wasn’t saying what he wanted, and she was scared to ask.
Why was she so scared to ask? Because he might say he wanted her? Or because he might say he didn’t?
Either answer terrified her, so that was why she would not ask it.
Instead, she said, “I would ask if you would meet with me again. Just one more time, to finally rid us of this madness, as you called it. I’ll send a note when I am free, and you . . . you can come to our town house.”
His expression was stunned. Was he appalled? Dismayed? Horrified?
“If that is what you want, Diantha, I will give it to you.”
His tone was heartbreakingly earnest.
“Yes. That is what I want. And then we will be able to forget any of this ever happened.”
His expression tightened, and she wondered what was going through his mind—but again she didn’t dare to ask. She couldn’t afford to hear any of the answers, no matter what they were. She needed to stay resolute. If resolving her parents’ problem would set her on a safe, comfortable course while also ensuring her family was safe and comfortable? It would be worth all the poignant longing in her heart when she couldn’t have him.
He nodded in agreement, taking her hand again as he gestured back to the dining room.
She returned his nod, allowing him to walk her back, where it seemed nobody but Lord Sneed had noticed they were missing. He nodded toward them, then beckoned a footman to see to their plates.
“Where have you been?”
Drusilla hissed across the table.
Oh, and her sister had noticed. That was unusual.
Diantha didn’t reply, just shook her head and turned her attention to the food. It tasted like ashes in her mouth, though she knew it was actually excellent.
Would everything taste like ashes now?
She paused at the thought, then realized—to her horror—she was being just as melodramatic as her parents had ever been.
No. She was Diantha the Dependable, not Diantha the Devastated.
She would clear him once and for all from her system, and then she would get on with her life.