Page 29 of The Spy Who Loved Her
He hadn’t—at least, not during the duration of his marriage, because ifRafe and Chris had ever learned of it, they would have beaten him to a pulp—but neither had he spent his Thursday evenings at his club.
“I suppose you maintain a subscription at a club?”
Yes. The same one his brother patronized, in fact, though it had been some time indeed since he’d made use of it. “I do. I don’t spend much time there.” He allowed himself one last caress across the smooth slope of her back. “Friday.”
Another yawn, given into the plush stuffing of the pillow beneath her head. “Friday, then,” she said as she fadedinto sleep.
Chapter Ten
Uncle Rafe!”
The gleeful shout caught Rafe by surprise as he was leaving his study, and he turned toward the stairs just in time to catch Hannah, who had flung herself at him from a running start, before she barreled straight into him. He hoisted her up into the air, dodging the excited flailing of small limbs. “Hello, moppet. Whatever are you doing here?”
“I came with Mama to tell you that it was very rudeof you not to come to our ball,” she said, affecting a scowl even as she wrapped her small arms about his neck, half-strangling him.
“Was it?” he asked. “I do apologize. I wasn’t aware that you were playing hostess.” He peered over the railing from the landing to see Diana waiting below.
“In fact, she was eating herself sick on stolen bits of cake,” Diana said, from the floor below, where she was standing with Mrs. Morris. “But it was too bad of you, Rafe, not to come. It was my first time as hostess, you know.”
Rafe winced. He supposed he’d earned himself the chiding, given that Diana and Lydia had worked so very hard on it—and it hadbeen Diana’s first as a hostess, even if that role had been a joint one. She’d had no opportunity to play hostess before, given that she’d been unmarried until quite recently. Worse, it would likely be some time before the opportunity arose again, since her husband’s finances were yet in a sorry state, and it would months, perhaps years, until they sufficiently recovered.
Hannah pressed her cheek to his. “I wasdevastated,” she confided. “I wanted you to dance with me!”
Rafe swallowed back a snort of amusement—presently, Hannah’s dancing skills consisted of standing upon the toes of his boots and squealing with glee as he whirled her about. She shrieked in delight as he took large, bounding steps down the stairs and put her back down upon her feet. “I’m sorry, darling. But there will be other balls.”
“And will you attend these other balls, then?” Diana inquired, lifting her brows. “I count myself lucky even to receive your regrets. Considering you so rarely bother even to say that much.”
“Diana—”
“Really, Rafe. We hardly see you.” Her palm settled over her midsection, rubbing the slight swell of her belly. So slight that it was only visible becauseshe had drawn attention to it with the motion. “At least make time for breakfast every so often. Perhaps on Saturdays?”
He supposed he couldn’t blame her for her persistence. Probably she only wanted to ensure that her children had a better childhood than they had had, full of people that doted upon them and the security of knowing they had a place within a family. A family with all of the love that had been absent in their younger lives. “I can do Saturdays,” he found himself saying.
“Good,” she said. “I will hold you to that.” She wrinkled her nose as Mrs. Morris brought out his coat, handing it over to him. “You weren’t leaving?”
“I really am very busy,” he said, sliding his arms through the coat sleeves as he shrugged it on. “I’ve got a standing appointment on Thursday evenings. You caught me on my way out.” He paused in the process of collecting his hat. “Incidentally,” he said, “have you got a list of those who attended your ball?”
Her lips pursed in annoyance, and she pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose only to glare at him through the lenses. “If you had attended, you’d hardly need a list.”
“Diana, I’ve already agreed to Saturdays. Youcouldbe gracious.”
Diana’s mouth dropped open in offense. “Gracious!” Folding her arms over her chest, she tilted her nose up at him. “What do you want it for, then?”
Rafe hesitated. Emma had mentioned Ambrose’s journal to Diana at some point during the ball. There was no way he could know whether it had been a private conversation or one that might have been overheard, and no way to inquire of it without raising further questions, which it would not have been prudent to answer. “You once asked me for a favor,” he said. “Let’s just say you owe me this much, and it isn’t nearly as much as you asked of me.”
“Hm.” Diana pressed her lips together. “And I am to do this favor for you without an explanation?”
“For the time being. I’m not at liberty to divulge more at present.”
Diana rolled her eyes. “All right,” she said. “You’ll have your list. On Saturday, at breakfast. Dobe prompt.” She cast a glance about, noted thefront door slightly ajar. “Oh, lord,” she sighed, with a resigned shake of her head. “Hannah has gone to splash about in puddles again.”
“Again?”
“There’s a massive one just outside,” she said as she pulled the door open. “She’s soaked the hem of her dress already—oh.”
Hannah glanced up from her seat upon the steps. “Mama, I made a friend!” she said, gesturing to the boy seated beside her. “His name’s Dannyboy. Isn’t that a funny name?”
“It’s not a funny name,” Dannyboy grumbled as he climbed to his feet. “It’s the only one I got.”
