Page 34 of To Love and to Loathe
However, in the interest of total honesty, Diana was forced to admit to herself that this prospect was not what truly concerned her—after all, if a lady found the specter of unwanted male opinions so daunting as to force her to remain abed, she would never leave her bedchamber again. No, it was the possibility of encountering one gentleman in particular that she found so alarming.
Diana wasn’t quite sure what had occurred between herself and Willingham the night before, but it made her deeply uneasy. Their discussion of his brother’s death was unquestionably the most serious conversation they’d ever had—and it was, she thought, the most vulnerable she’d ever seen Willingham.
She had been perfectly comfortable with their arrangement when it had seemed that she would be able to continue to keep Willingham tidily in the mental box she had assigned to him: charming, flirtatious, utterly maddening. She was far less comfortable now that she had seen this other, even more appealing side to his character. Did anyone else see this, or was it only her? Even thinking that made her feel laughably presumptuous, and yet she knew that he must keep his more serious side buried deeply away, for the sake of his reputation if nothing else.
She sighed, allowing her head to flop back upon the mountain of pillows behind her. She and Willingham were too much alike—that was the problem here.
Not Willingham,she mentally corrected herself.Jeremy.The namesounded strange even in her mind, despite the fact that she had heard Penvale, Audley, Violet, and most of his other friends address him as such for years. But she supposed it was past time she started using it—after all,heusedherChristian name.
Not, of course, that she had given him leave to do so. She wasn’t sure when she’d grown accustomed to hearing him call her Diana rather than Lady Templeton, but she found she rather liked it—he had always said her title with just a touch of laughter in his voice, too faint for her to object aloud but present nonetheless.
It was one of the countless things about him that made him easily the most frustrating man of her acquaintance. Or, she was quite sure, ofanyone’sacquaintance.
She raised her cup to her lips only to find that it was empty—she had finished her chocolate without realizing it. Blinking down at the tray on her lap, she realized that she had eaten all of her toast, too. This was truly a worrisome sign—no matter how perturbed her mental state, Diana prided herself on being able to enjoy her meals. She sighed again and rang for Toogood. There was no avoiding it: she would have to go downstairs for breakfast.
By the time she arrived downstairs, it was late enough that much of the party had already breakfasted, leaving only a few stragglers behind. Jeremy, mercifully, was not one of them; Emily, however, was—and, more interestingly, so was Lord Julian Belfry. They were sitting next to each other at one end of the table, several chairs removed from their closest breakfast companion, and though both were silent and appeared rather dedicated to the food before them, Diana had the distinct impression that the air around them was vibrating with some sort of tension, indicating words either recently or soon to be spoken. For the sake of her own nosiness, she hoped it was the latter.
Being the shameless creature that she was, Diana loaded up her plate at the sideboard and dropped into the seat directly next to Emily. Smiling at both of them—it was difficult to say who looked less comfortable—she lifted the teapot and said brightly, “Tea?”
Belfry shook his head jerkily and gave a sort of grunt that Diana supposed she was meant to interpret in the negative; it was a far cry from his normally urbane conversation. Emily, however, gave a half-hearted smile and a nod.
“And how areyouthis morning, Lord Julian?” Diana asked as she refilled Emily’s cup.
“Quite well, thank you,” came the stiff reply.
“Sleep well?” she asked innocently. His appearance indicated quite the opposite—the circles under his eyes rivaled Emily’s, and she had the distinct impression that, were he not bound by the manners of good society that constrained them all, he would have taken great pleasure in telling her to bugger off.
Which was another insult she had picked up from her brother, incidentally. He had proved distressingly unforthcoming when pressed to actually define the wordbugger; that, however, was what books were for.
“I feel that I should be asking you that question, Lady Templeton,” Belfry replied mildly, and Diana arched a brow, one worthy opponent acknowledging another.
“You are too kind, sir,” she said, her tone indicating that she felt just the opposite. “I myself passed quite a restful evening.”
“Indeed? How… unexpected.”
“And why should it be?” She smiled sweetly at him, daring him to state outright what he was implying. Any other man of thetonwould have backed down at this point, unless he were an utter blackguard—she was a lady, after all, and it was beyond the pale to accuse her ofloose behavior to her face. Behind her back, of course, was an entirely different matter, as more than one unfortunate lady had cause to know. But to make such an accusation directly… no. It would be entirely unseemly.
She had forgotten, of course, that the usual rules of thetondid not apply when one was conversing with a man who had been disinherited by his father and operated a scandalous theater in Piccadilly.
“I just thought you might have had… company.” His eyes were dancing with laughter, and while coming from any other man, the intimation would have offended Diana, she somehow found it entertaining rather than off-putting coming from Belfry. Possibly because she knew that, in truth, he had little regard for the rules of polite society—he was just trying to get a rise out of her.
Unfortunately for him, while he was skilled, he had not yet reached Jeremy’s level of mastery, and she was unfazed.
“My maid is not terribly attentive,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding him.
“Ah,” he murmured, “what a shame. You must have dearly missed… her company.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Emily muttered, setting down her teacup with a clatter. “My lord, surely even you cannot think this is acceptable breakfast-table conversation.”
The instant Emily spoke, Belfry’s gaze sharpened on her with such intense focus that Diana marveled that Emily’s skin was not burning. Instantly, she understood that his entire conversation with her had been designed to nettle nother, but Emily. Now that he had achieved his aim, his attention was so entirely devoted to Emily that Diana was certain she herself could have plunged through a hole in the floor and he would scarcely have noticed.
It was all extremely interesting.
“I apologize,” Belfry said to Emily in tones of such exaggerated courtesy that Diana was instantly suspicious. “Did you wish to resume our previous discussion, then?”
Emily flushed. “I didn’t think we had anything left to discuss.”
Belfry leaned back in his chair. “Interesting. I’d thought we were in the middle of a conversation—one I was rather eager to finish.” His gaze on Emily was unwavering, his blue eyes sharp. He was an exceptionally handsome man, Diana thought—not for the first time or, if he continued to make himself a constant presence in Emily’s life, the last.
