It did not matter that there was an open invitation for visits. Diana had taken her sister, who had loved her more than anything in the world, and left her behind while she ran away to be a duchess. She had not been fair, and she knew that, but she had done what she had thought best. Was that such a crime?
“You are brilliant, Sister,” Diana promised. “You could be anything you set your mind to, go anywhere in the world, and I shall always love you just the same. If you do not wish to marry, then you need not concern yourself with my feelings on the matter. I will not think you ungrateful, rather I will find comfort in the knowledge that I taught you to be the person you truly are.”
It was quite strange because although Samantha seemed to be comforted by that knowledge, she also seemed more troubled by it. Diana was unsure of why that was, and as she sat in silence throughout the carriage ride home, it only made things worse.
The Duke did not come to dinner that night, which did not surprise Diana. She did not wish to face him, she could not face him. Not after what he had done. Then, as she left for her bedchambers, Samantha embraced her much tighter than she had in the past.
“You will do well, Sister,” Samantha promised. “I know that this all seems terribly impossible now, but you will find a way. I expect nothing less from you.”
“It certainly seems difficult right now,” Diana sighed into her sister’s ribbons. “But you are right. We shall find a way through this, together as always, yes?”
Samantha seemed to mumble an agreement, but it did not seem completely sincere.
When Diana awoke that morning, neither the Duke nor her sister came to breakfast. It was an odd thing to happen—not the Duke’s absence, that much was to be expected, but Samantha’s. She was not the sort to not come to see her. She wondered if she had struggled to fall asleep the night before, and so went to her bedchambers.
She knocked, but there was no response, so she entered, hoping that she would not be chastised for it.
Samantha was not there. In her place, perched on her pillow, there was a letter, with Diana’s name scribbled on it. Diana needed only a quick glance at the words before dropping it then and there and running out of the house.
She had to find Samantha, and fast.
CHAPTER 25
Colin found that he had never been more at a loss than he had been with his wife.
He had thought himself intelligent. He had thought that, above all else, he would always know what to do, because he had so much knowledge, to begin with, but that counted for naught when her lips were so tantalizingly close to his, and yet he knew that he could do nothing about it.
Diana was so many things. His wife, his duchess, his friend. It was the title of friend that had made him behave so gentlemanly, in spite of the fact that he deeply and truly did not wish to. His honor crumbled a little more each and every time he looked upon her, and he knew that there was only so much he could take before it at last fell to pieces.
And so he began to avoid her once more.
It was not her fault, not at all, but he could not ruin her. It was not the right thing to do, nor the fair thing. Not for a woman like her. Thus, it was easier and better for everyone if he simply left her to have some time with her sister and escaped for a short while. Fortunately, he was a well-liked patron at the bar.
“If burnt toast and raw egg do not teach you the consequences of your actions, nothing will.”
Unfortunately, alcohol was not exactly a good friend of his.
“Charles?” he mumbled. “What are you?—”
“I found you in the streets last night. You were shouting something about your wife, and how you wanted her gone, and so I thought it might be wise to bring you here before you made people talk.”
“Oh, God,” he groaned, and only in part because of the sunlight hitting his eyes. “Please say that nobody heard me.”
“I believe all is well. Nobody was around, and you would think that they would have been if they heard you.”
“Then at least I have that to be grateful for.”
“You can also be grateful for the fact that I am going to give you one hour to gather yourself before I ask you what all of that was.”
Colin groaned once more, eating his raw egg and blackened bread with a most sour expression.
“Have I not been punished enough with that?” he asked. “Truly, that was foul.”
“As was saying you wanted your duchess gone,” Charles pointed out. “And so you might be best to explain that to me now, rather than later.”
“Frankly, I do not know why I was saying that. I do not want to be rid of her, not in the way that I made it seem, at least.”
“But you do want her gone, is that it?”