Page 35 of A Duke for Diana
“I have no reason to deny it. I’m still trying to figureyouout,” she said, eyes gleaming.
Leave it to Diana to throw his own words back at him. “And have you?”
“Hardly. I don’t understand half of what you wrote. But I can tell you’re passionate about it.”
“As passionate as you are about how to navigate the Season. I have to ask—who helpedyounavigate the Season? Or were you born knowing all those rules?”
He’d hoped to make her laugh, but she glanced out the other window instead and then turned to look past him, too, as if to make sure no one was around on either side of the carriage to listen in. Then she smoothed her skirts. “Eliza helped me, fortunately.”
“Not your mother?”
She shrugged. “Mama was too . . . busy.”
He leaned on the open window. “To manage her own daughter’s début?”
A great sigh escaped her. “Yes. If you must know, she and Papa were more engrossed in their ongoing quarrels at the time.”
“What were they quarreling over?”
She sniffed. “And you claim that only people in society gossip.”
“Trust me, I’m not planning to tell anyone. And it’s not gossip if I get it from the source itself.”
“True. But the answer is complicated. They quarreled over whether he had a mistress. Whether she had a lover. Anything they could find to argue about, to be honest. Papa would go to his club, then not return home until dawn, which infuriated Mama, who was sure he was seeing his mistress. So Mama would disappear for days without telling him whereshewas going. It drove Papa mad, not knowing where she was. Which is probably why she did it.”
“It must have driven you and Lady Verity mad, too. After all, there’s a reason gentlemen are supposed to be discreet with their paramours, and ladies are supposed to pretend they don’t have any themselves. To avoid upsetting the children. Or so I’m told anyway.”
Her gaze met his. “We got used to it. Eliza was already married by then, but she started coming by our house in Grosvenor Square just to see how Verity and I were managing and to make sure neither Papa nor Mama had killed each other. That would be quite a scandal, you know. Our family supposedly disapproves of scandal.”
So did his, especially the sort of scandal that might break about them if he wasn’t careful. “I can’t blame your family for that. Scandal spawns gossip and makes matters uncomfortable for you in society.”
“Papa generally managed to keep their battles quiet, but not always. It got so the rafters fairly rang with their shouting. Since my own presentation to the queen had just happened, Eliza took me to every event she attended, just to get me out of the house and give me some semblance of a début in society. She was very good at ignoring what was occurring at our home so she could help me—and Verity, during her Season—to make important connections and find friends.”
He shook his head. “Your mother should have been doing that for you, from what I understand.”
“She should have . . . but Mama was never interested in being a mother.” Her tone betrayed a cynicism he didn’t usually hear from her. “Mama is interested in two things these days—having fun and annoying Papa. It was only after she pushed him to the edge by running off with the major-general that Papa decided to sue for divorce.”
“I’m not surprised. Her behavior must have broken his heart.”
“Not really. He just never could stand to let Mama get the better of him.”
Tired of standing outside one of his own carriages, he put the step down and opened the carriage door. Before he could climb in, the footman raced to his side. “Your Grace, you cannot enter!”
“Why not?” he asked irritably, still holding the door open. “It’s my carriage. I should like to sit in it. And perhaps—unfeeling creature that I am—evenridein it.”
Diana seemed to be fighting a laugh as she gazed at Geoffrey. “Thomas is concerned about my reputation. A lady isn’t supposed to be alone in a closed carriage with a man. It could ruin her.”
Geoffrey gestured to the row of carriages, each of which had at least one footman lounging about, not to mention the coachman. “I hardly consider us ‘alone.’ Nor is it a closed carriage. You’ve got every window and curtain open, and it’s broad daylight besides.”
“It’s all right, Thomas,” she said tohisdamned footman. “I came prepared for this.” She reached behind her bonnet to tug a veil over it, which fell like a shroud about her features.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered under his breath as he pulled up the step and shut the carriage door. “I’ll stand out here.”
“If you wish,” she said lightly. “I certainly wouldn’t want to do anything that might make you uncomfortable.”
“Right.” He gestured to her bonnet. “You can unveil yourself now.” He disliked not being able to see her expressions.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with clear amusement in her voice. “I find it best to be prepared.”
