Page 68 of A Lady's Past
“I have been walking and thinking.”
“I’m sure I know of whom you’ve been thinking. Why the milling about, though? Is something troubling you?” Preston stood next to him. He’d removed his coat and loosened his cravat.
“Something Mrs. Fallcraft said. She worried that if something happened to me, Diana would be exposed to much ridicule. Of course, I shall take precautions for her benefit. Still, I have spent so much time worrying over her well-being, and I foolishly did nothing to protect her beyond the physical. A stupid oversight.” He grabbed the poker and stirred the embers back to life.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Preston turned toward Jacques. “Are you planning to marry her?”
“Of course I am. As soon as this mess is resolved.”
“Are you certain about this?”
Jacques’s temper flared as he faced Preston. “What did you think all of this was about, Pres? I’m in love with her.”
“Keeping an innocent woman safe. I can see you care for her, and I like her. She’s a lovely girl.” He ran his hand through his hair as he did whenever he searched for words.
“If you are about to tell me to find a woman with title or money, I swear I will knock you on your ass.” It had been years since he’d hit Preston or even disagreed with him, yet his fist clenched, ready for battle.
“You know I don’t care about any of that.”
“What is it, then?”
Preston held his hands out to his sides. “You are a Frenchman in England. You rely on a good relationship with people in society in order to continue your lucrative business. Marrying a girl who was accused of treason is not exactly the best way to endear yourself to the ton.”
“Do you have any other objections?” Jacques bit the inside of his cheek. None of it made any difference. The fact that Preston was right didn’t matter. If the members of society didn’t want to do business with him, they would suffer as much as him.
“Only one other.” He tugged on his cravat.
“What is it?”
“What if we’re wrong about her? What if she is a traitor to the crown?”
Jacques sucked in a long breath and rushed forward, grabbing a handful of Preston’s blouse. He backed his best friend to the wall. “Do not ever say that again. Diana is a good and kind soul who has been through more than you can imagine. I do not care what your English gentry think and frankly, I do not care what you think, Pres. I am going to make her my wife because I am in love with her and cannot live without her.”
Nodding, Preston made no move to get away from him. “Then you need not strangle me. If this is how you feel, I shall love her like my own sister.”
One breath at a time, Jacques brought his anger under control. He let go of Preston’s shirt. “Thank you. I would hate to lose your friendship, Pres.”
Preston slapped him on the back. “And you never shall.”
ChapterSixteen
Diana had been looking for Jacques because he’d never come back to the parlor. She’d tried his bedchamber but found it empty. Nice women didn’t traipse about in the middle of the night, but she wanted to see him once more before Christmas was over.
In her bare feet and nightgown, she’d taken the stone steps down and found him talking to Preston in the parlor by the fire.
She should have made her presence known, but when Preston said she would damage Jacques’s business, she’d hid herself just outside the door. It was beneath her, but she couldn’t help herself. Preston was right. She would ruin all Jacques had built in England. One day he would come to resent her for destroying his business.
Jacques’s voice had been so calm and unaffected. When he’d asked if Preston had any other objections, Diana had run back up the steps and gone to her bed for a good cry. How could she have been so wrong about his feelings for her?
No. He said he loved her. Perhaps the reminder of losing so much money by marrying a woman of doubtful character had tempered his love. It was too much to give up for a girl who had nothing to offer the marriage. Perhaps if she came with a large dowry, he could afford to be rejected by the ton. Diana had nothing; no connections and no riches. All she could do was help Francis Edgebrook with his experiments. Hardly enough to base a partnership on, let alone a marriage.
It seemed like her tears would never stop. She wiped her face a hundred times and had even gone to the washbasin to scrub her sorrow away. It had no effect, and the tears fell endlessly.
When the knock came soft as a bird at her door, she froze. Silence followed. Maybe she’d imagined it.
There it was again.
Wiping her face with the sleeve of her voluminous nightdress, she padded to the door. “Who’s there?”
