Page 4 of A Lady's Wicked Revenge
“Well. I say … it … it really is a fine day today. Don’t you think?”
Diana turned away from the path to crouch beside a cluster of thorny flowers, pretending not to have heard.It would be all the finer if I did not have to pass it in such company,she thought, forcing her face to retain a neutral expression.
Gerard cleared his throat, then sallied forth for another assault. “The, ah … well, I don’t know what flowers these are, but they’re quite lovely. I should say.”
“Oh, no, sir, those columbine there?” Missus Fessler laughed in disbelief. “No, I’m afraid those are just wildflowers. Sir James would have Christopher pull them up if he ever came out to see them—he prefers more … what does he say,cultivatedblossoms.”
“Ah, hm. Really?” Gerard stammered in reply. Diana smiled darkly, still facing away from the two. She recognized the tone in his voice of neither wanting to be rude nor encourage the woman to speak further on the subject.You’ll have to try harder than that, as well I’ve found,she thought sardonically.
And speak Missus Fessler did. Her little steps carried her up to Gerard’s side, her voice continuing in her singsong manner, “’Course, we called them granny’s bonnet when I was a lass. A friend of mine out in the village, she and I once convinced a boy who was sweet on her to eat a whole fistful of them. Ha! Lad was sick enough that he soon enough left her alone. A pretty little flower, sure enough, but those can be the most dangerous of all, mind you me.”
“Yes, I—” he tried to interject.
“Now, daisies are a much safer gift for a lady you’ve got your eye on, Mister Dunn. That, or marigolds, though of course, those won’t …”
Diana rolled her eyes and continued to walk briskly down the garden path, closing her ears to the continuing prattle. Though the garden was not terribly large and provided no cover, still she glanced about in search of somewhere she could run and hide while her suitor and chaperone were distracted. Seeing none, Diana sighed and continued their walk along the path, staying a few steps ahead of her companions.
Unbidden, some old, familiar voice in Diana’s mind cried out in objection to this behaviour.What’s so wrong with chatting with, by all accounts, a polite young man?the voice chided her.What kind of rude, heartless creature are you not to even engage in civil conversation? How can you let this poor boy make an arse of himself in front of your eyes?
Diana snorted, as impatient with this voice as she was with all else intent on controlling what she did and felt. The very thought of engaging in societal niceties had become repugnant to her. Every raised eyebrow, every shaken head or wagged finger—she wanted to scream at them all,‘Don’t you know my mother and father died, you merciless beast?’The effort it took just to keep herself from melting into a puddle of grief-stricken sobs was so very overwhelming … what right did anyone have to demand still more of her than that?
And then, horribly, a gentle voice: “I … understand your parents recently passed away.”
Diana froze in place, a cold hand wrapping around her heart. All contempt for the man and this futile courtship evaporated, replaced first by surprise at his shift away from tedious small talk, then by all the sorrow she struggled so terribly to keep at bay every waking moment of her days.
She turned to look at him, feeling herself fill with anger at having her emotions so callously exposed. She felt him step closer to her, his wiry form no more than a few feet behind her. For half a heartbeat, she worried he would put a hand on her shoulder—it would take true self-restraint not to lash out if he took such a liberty.
But the man simply stood there on the dry, rocky path, his feet shuffling awkwardly in place as before. “You have my condolences. I know how terribly it must hurt to—”
“Do you?” Diana snapped. “That’s most interesting, Mister Dunn. Have you lost your own parents as well, then?”
The lanky young man drew back at these words as though fearing for his life. Timidly he answered, “Well, I … no, I haven’t. But I imagine it—”
“I see. You must have a most vivid imagination, then, sir. Not to say a terribly depressing one, to conjure such feelings without having lived through such an experience. My compliments to your mental prowess.”Lord, the tears are coming now,she realised. Diana drew up her mouth in a scowl, hoping she could frighten the looming despair away with a fit of anger as she had done before.
“I’m sorry. I know …” Gerard stopped, looking around at their surroundings for some clue on how to proceed. Missus Fessler watched from the side, answering his glance with a sober shake of her head. His eyes flitted back to Diana, lip trembling. “That is, I … I cannot know … but I wish that … that is …”
At last, Diana could take no more of this. Without a word of warning, she picked up her skirts and sped up the path that led to the front door of the Leeson house. Over her shoulder, she thought she could hear Gerard raise his voice in protest, then Missus Fessler saying something to him in a gentle tone of voice.
Diana did not care—all she could think of now was getting away to somewhere she could dissolve into tears without inviting any questions or stares. And as she did not hear any footsteps behind her by the time she reached the door, she sighed with relief, confident in having escaped this encounter. The tides of sorrow that had loomed so large within her mind began to recede, comforted with the knowledge that her refuge was at hand.
Uncle James will be furious for my having run off so abruptly.Diana swallowed, the thought sending fear shooting through her even as her fingers mechanically turned the knob and pushed open the door.But that is an argument for another time.
Diana doubted she would ever view entering James Leeson’s estate as a pleasant experience, given her upsetting recent history in the home. But this time, she stepped across the threshold and was met not only with the cold dread that seemed to live in the very air of the place but with shock and alarm.
Just as she set foot in the entryway, hastening ahead of her walking companions in search of a moment’s quiet, she saw a pair of wide, shining green eyes peering out at her from the shadows of an adjoining room. For an instant, Diana was surprised enough that she stopped dead in her tracks, putting a hand to her chest as her breath seized at the sight.
She could see little of the man in the darkened room, though she could make out a mop of dark tousled hair and a lustrous white cravat framing those striking green eyes, which still gazed at her with a disarming intensity. The man spoke not a word, his expression inscrutable as Diana finally forced herself to breathe once more.
Another one of Uncle James’ vile lackeys, no doubt,Diana thought, resuming her walk towards the staircase. Apart from the household staff, her uncle seemed to have a veritable army of unsavoury characters in his employ. Diana never exchanged words with any of these ruffians, keeping them in her memory as another thing to count against Uncle James’ integrity.Though there was something … strangely familiar about that man,she mused, worrying at the half-formed impression as if it were a sore.
Putting the man out of her mind, Diana continued to stride towards the stairs.I’ve been on this damnable walk. If Uncle James wants anything more of me, he will have to batter down my door and—
“Hello?”
Diana jumped in surprise at the sound. Pausing in her advance towards the stairs, she was dismayed to see the green-eyed man standing but a few paces behind her in the corridor. Now that he was illuminated by the sunlight flooding through the windows, Diana could see that he looked most dissimilar from the ruffians with whom Uncle James usually met.
He was younger than she had first thought, for one, with an appealingly wide chin and prominent cheekbones. Though his chestnut-coloured locks were long and untidy, it was nevertheless a handsome head of hair. From his visible arm muscles to his thick, athletic legs, the young man appeared to be the very picture of masculine English health.
