Page 11 of A Lady's Past
Giving a nod that didn’t look convincing, Francis rushed to the other corner of his laboratory. “You’ll like this one, Jacques. I’m improving on a fire extinguisher. I thought, with all my mishaps, it might be a good idea to create a more effective means of putting out fires.” He laughed.
The small tank was cylindrical and had a hose, but was otherwise unimpressive. “What have you done?”
Francis picked up the copper cylinder. “This vessel contains potassium carbonate and compressed air. If I have a fire, I just pull this lever and compressed air shoots ash through the hose, putting out a small fire.”
“Amazing. You have been busy. I wouldn’t mind having a few of those stored around the mines too. Let’s put that on the list of experiments I’m financing.” Jacques couldn’t believe how much had been accomplished in the few weeks he’d been distracted by his parents’ arrival. It was exciting to see things coming together for Francis.
Footsteps on the stairs drew their attention. Mrs. Whimple poked her head in. “The tea is ready if you can spare a break in your important business.”
Francis scratched his neat beard. “Are there biscuits?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Whimple blushed and rushed back up the steps.
Francis tugged his coat down and rushed up the steps behind her.
Left alone with Diana, Jacques longed to know all her secrets. “I was surprised to find you here.”
She added some water to the growing beds. “I was equally shocked to have you walk into my assignment.”
It was foolish, but he stepped closer anyway. She was like a magnet to him, and he was unable to avoid her pull. “I would not wish for you to think it was an unpleasant surprise. I’m delighted to see you and to know you are well. You look rested.”
It was true. Gone were the dark circles under her eyes, and her shoulders were squared. She was still the lovely woman from the road, but without the terror or the shotgun.
The watering can shook in her grasp, and she placed it on the table. “I was given leave to sleep for several days.”
“Do I make you uncomfortable, Diana?”
Those eyes of hers were as deep as the sea and more compelling. Stepping toward him, she reached up and cupped his cheek, then lifted on her toes and placed the smallest kiss on his lips. “I am not afraid of you, Jacques. Not in the way you think.”
Before she could retreat, he grasped her hand and held it to his chest. It had been a chaste kiss, but it still sent a wave of desire through him, and also something more. Something he didn’t want to identify. “How then? What is this trouble you’re in? How can I help? What do you need?”
“So many questions.” Gently, she pulled her hand away. “I will answer the first. I fear that what I want is impossible, and you are a glaring reminder of that fact.”
“I have a great many friends. Are you sure I cannot be of some assistance?” He should run as fast as he could. This woman was not what he wanted. He didn’t want a wife, and she hardly seemed the type to be a mistress. It must be that he’d lost his mind.
“Diana? Are you down there?” a woman called from the top of the stairs.
“Yes, my lady. I’m on my way.”
“Your tea will get cold.”
“Who is that?” he asked.
“Lady Chervil is my chaperon. Though most of the time she is nowhere to be found.” Diana smiled and disappeared up the steps.
With no other choice, Jacques followed and joined the party in the parlor for tea. Mrs. Whimple served, and sat with her cup perched in front of her pursed lips.
Diana sipped her tea and spoke only when it was necessary in reply to a direct question.
Lady Honoria Chervil flitted about the room chatting with each of them. “Monsieur Laurent, I heard that your family has come to England. Her Grace the Duchess of Middleton came for a visit last week and gushed about going to see them.”
Jacques disliked being the subject of gossip, but this was well meant. “It was wonderful to have my family and friends all in one place. It has been a long time. We hope to have Christmas together at Brookhaven, the Middleton country home in Derbyshire. I am very much looking forward to it.”
That image flew into his mind. Preston, Millie, Aunt Phillipa, Preston’s mother, together with his parents. He would be there, sharing his fine wine with Diana…
He stopped the thought.
Where had that come from? Diana would not be at Christmas. She was not part of his family, nor were they more than acquaintances. He’d been planning this Christmas for months, and never had he thought to bring a woman with him.
