Page 25 of A Lady's Wicked Revenge
“Perhaps you should stay home next time, then. In fact, perhaps we all should,” said Diana, turning to continue her quick walk back into the crowd.
Not for the first time, she wished she had not resolved to go along with Uncle James’ mandated chaperoned walk with Gerard. When he had told her she would be spending her day walking through the market with her ‘beloved beau’, Diana had nearly pitched a bloody fit on the spot.
It would have been so much easier and more tolerable to tell him I would rather die than spend another afternoon with Mister Dull,as she had begun thinking of Gerard.More satisfying as well, certainly.But regrettably, for the first time in some weeks, her good sense had won out—or her fear. Uncle James had made it good and clear that he was eager for an excuse to sign her off to Gerard Dunn that very afternoon, that it was only concern for his own reputation that compelled him to make her go along with this sham of a courtship. And the look in his eye had convinced Diana that he was deadly serious.
Calm yourself,her good sense had seethed.You can survive a boring afternoon. Present an icy front rather than a fiery one, and he will lose interest. Give yourself more time to understand Uncle James’ plan and concoct one of your own.
“Here, Miss Hann! I say, have you seen these, ah … things?”
Diana gritted her teeth still harder, hoping she would not have a horrendous headache when this was all finished. She turned slowly to see Gerard Dunn pointing to a spray of peacock feathers in a vendor’s stall. They were pretty enough in their own way, Diana supposed, if a bit well-worn from being pawed at by a thousand well-heeled nincompoops over the years.
“I have now, thank you,” she said sharply, then turned to continue pushing forward.The carriage can’t be much further …
“Wait, ah, I mean …” She could hear Gerard chide himself to finish a sentence for a change, see the levers and pulleys moving behind his eyes trying to. “Don’t you think they’re … that is, theyare …well, quite pretty. I suppose?”
“Indeed, most lovely, sir, the feathers of the exotic peacock bird!” chirruped the vendor as he sidled closer to Gerard.
“Yes, yes. Uh, I know that, yes.” Gerard’s teeth chattered as he looked to Diana, then glanced about awkwardly. He swallowed something before turning back to Diana and saying in as deliberate voice as he possessed, “Might I have the honour of giving you one, Miss Hann? Or several? If it would not be too forward, that is. You could use them, you know, for … writing your correspondence!”
“I’m afraid not, honoured sir,” said the vendor with a sad shake of his head, his jowls shaking with the gesture. “These lovelies are only for appreciating for their aesthetic value, you see. Grown by the peacock for attracting one of the females of his species, who find them most alluring.” The greasy man waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Gerard.
Diana snorted. “Perhaps you should try giving them to a peahen, then. I imagine she would be a more appreciative recipient.”
All she got in return was an empty blink from Gerard. He opened his mouth to laugh, then shut it once more with a look of furious concentration on his plain features. “Miss Hann, I don’t think the bird would … why would I give a present to a bird?” he asked in a slow voice, as though speaking to a small child.
Idiot,Diana thought as she walked off again, immediately wondering whether she was referring to Gerard or herself for expecting anything different from him.Better re-learn how to hold your tongue, foolish girl. One complaint to Uncle James about your behaviour might be enough to scare him into doing God knows what. You’ve got too used to your verbal warfare with Colin Mullens. Most people aren’t like that—in fact, nobody else in the world is like that.
Diana stopped in place there, her breath catching in her throat. Over the preceding weeks, she had grown exceedingly practised at telling the difference between the varying shades of sorrow … but now, the thoughts that had been running through her mind presented a vexing question.
Am I feeling upset due to Uncle James’ nefarious plots? Or am I upset that Gerard Dunn is not Colin Mullens?
* * *
The carriage ride back to the Leeson household was an even more awkward affair, though such a thing hardly seemed possible. Someone had evidently given Mister Dunn the advice that it was for him to take the reins in a conversation with a member of the fairer sex and that despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, Diana was just a shy girl who could not hold up her end of a conversation.
And so, each time he stumbled and stammered his way to a question or another natural opening in the conversation, he stopped, thought better of it, and continued nattering on about whatever trivial thing entered his own head.
And my God, even for trivial chitchat, this is especially trivial.
“I’m not sure I approve of the wild colours you see some women wearing out in the street. They may be, er, fashionable, I suppose, but they are most gaudy. Don’t you think they … that is, I’m sure you would never want to attract attention in such a manner.”
And, “It’s most upsetting, the stray curs you see running around at night. Not … not that I spend a great deal of time on the street at night, ha ha!”
And, “I know many women are quite fond of riding these days. Do you like to—that is, if you are permitted to visit, I shall have to show you our stables.”
This was followed by an impossible ten minutes in which Gerard Dunn described his childhood pony in every excruciating detail, seemingly without taking a single breath.
Ignoring the gentle elbow that Missus Fessler threw into her ribs every so often, Diana continued to stare out the carriage window, avoiding Gerard’s gaze so she could continue to roll her eyes.If Missus Fessler knew how much it would hurt to look at the man, she would bloody well leave my ribs alone.Rising from the irritated air that had descended on Diana was the voice of her good sense, insistent if increasingly quiet.
You should be using this time to figure out how you can get out from under Uncle James’ thumb,said the voice.This is a valuable opportunity to think through what you’ve learned about his designs for you. Perhaps you can even use Mister Dull—Dunn, that is, to your advantage. All you need to do is concentrate!
She opened her mouth in a vigorous yawn, the sights of the city through her carriage window blurring into one long, endless grey streak even as the sound of Mister Dunn’s voice melted into a boundless tedium of noise.
I am falling asleep,Diana thought with a start, pulling herself straight from her position leaning against the window.Can’t have that—not now. Wake yourself, girl, come on!
Sleep continued to be a fraught and terrible thing for Diana. Every night she awoke in the darkness a dozen times or more, crying out for her parents or shrieking as a hail of shattered glass tore into her flesh. Naturally, this lack of restful slumber left her nodding off in all manner of inconvenient places … and worse still, the dreams of blood and glass were even more terrifying when they visited her in the daylight.
She blinked, looking over and seeing that the gentle, rhythmic jostling of the carriage had sent Missus Fessler into a deep slumber. Her mouth was hanging open, her soft snoring added to the soporific atmosphere of the carriage. Diana rubbed her eyes, hoping to jolt herself back into wakefulness, and saw that Mister Dunn had likewise fallen asleep at some point. She smiled grimly at the sight, grateful that she would at least be spared more of his dull attempts at conversation.
