Page 6 of Romancing the Rifleman
But Marcus was every bit as muleheaded as Diana, and he had this idea that the size of her dowry was a demonstration of the esteem in which he held his sister.
She knew his intentions were good.But the result was that she was surrounded by a flock of fortune hunters every time she set foot outside the house.Marcus had thought her dowry would make finding a husband easy, but paradoxically, it had made it nigh impossible.The constant scrum of fortune hunters scared off more honorable suitors who might be interested in getting to know her.She also found herself questioning every man’s intentions, putting up defenses of her own that she had to acknowledge were probably discouraging good men along with the wastrels.
But Harrington Astley felt different.When she’d first made her debut, she’d thought him handsome, charming, and extremely witty.She hadn’t had time to get to know him well before he had to leave London to join his regiment, but she hadn’t been particularly upset about it.She had assumed she would meet dozens more handsome, witty men.
Except… she hadn’t.It turned out that handsome, witty men were thin on the ground.Had she realized what a rare prize he was, she would have valued Harrington’s company more highly during the brief interval she’d had it.
And, considering the way he had just defended her, she was feeling more warmly inclined toward him than ever.
And now he was back…
A newfound determination filled her.She was going to dance with him.Tonight.She had no idea how long he would be in London, but she was going to make use of that time.
If there was anything there, any possibility that the two of them would suit, she was going to uncover it.
The room had been silent for some time.It would be safe for her to emerge from behind her curtain.
Gathering herself, she slipped from her hiding place.
It turned out that the dark green jackets worn by officers of the Rifle Brigade were indeed an effective form of concealment, because she was halfway across the library before she noticed that the room was not quite so deserted as she had assumed.
Harrington’s back was to her.Her heart squeezed as she noticed that his coat, which had fit his broad shoulders so beautifully the last time she saw him, was a trifle loose.The papers had reported that the retreat from Bremen had been a frantic affair, with his unit, the 95thRifles, performing rearguard duty for its full duration.It was thanks to their efforts that the troops had returned home safely, and the reputation of the Rifle Brigade was very much in ascendance.Being a Rifleman was now considered to be every bit as modish as being in the Royal Hussars.
It seemed the reality was less glamorous.Harrington Astley’s frame had been lean even before joining the army.She felt a lump form over her heart at the thought that he must’ve gone weeks without having enough to eat.
Gracious—it was not the time to grow all sniffly over his coat.Shaking herself, Diana took a careful step back, preparing to slip back behind her curtain.
That was when he began muttering to himself.“What a fucking toadstool.I hope he chokes on an onion.I hope a swarm of weevils takes up residence in his arsehole.”
He was starting to get worked up, and began gesticulating with one hand.“I hope he steps in dog shit.I hope a cat throws up in his favorite boots.I hope he gets hogweed on his bollocks.I hope he trips and falls and lands on a cheese knife, and it goes straight up his?—”
He spun around.It was not difficult to mark the moment he spotted Diana creeping back toward her curtain.He stopped mid-tirade, one finger raised in the air, mouth hanging open.Diana fancied that she would never forget his frozen look of horror.
Abruptly, he closed his mouth and dropped his hand.He sketched an awkward bow.“Lady Diana.I didn’t realize you were, er…”
She found his discomfiture amusing, so instead of hastening to reassure him, she arched an eyebrow.“Clearly not.”
“I assume you heard”—he waved a finger in a circle—“all of that?”
“I did,” she said, careful to keep her expression stern.
He cleared his throat.“I apologize for my language.I’ve, er… been in the army.”
She crossed her arms and tilted her head ever so slightly.“And you did not use such language before joining the army?”
He cringed.“I must own that I did.”
She managed to hold her stony expression for all of six seconds.Then, the corner of her mouth quirked upward.
The next thing she knew, they were both laughing.It was the kind of uncontrollable, tears-pricking, struggling-to-breathe, stomach-growing-sore laughter that one experienced far too seldom in life.
After the worst of it had passed, Harrington ran a hand over his face.“Oh, myGod.I can’t believe I said all of that in front of you.My mother wouldkillme if she knew.”
Diana waved her hand.“Really, you oughtn’t worry about it.Aunt Griselda says that much and worse on a regular basis, only she says it in Mecklenburgish.”
Harrington grinned.“Just when I thought I couldn’t like your aunt any better.How’s she doing, by the by?”
“I am pleased to report that she is as hale and surly as ever.”This was another point in Harrington’s favor.Most men seemed to regard her unorthodox great-aunt as a cross to be borne.Harrington, on the other hand, found her delightful.At Diana’s debut, he even asked Aunt Griselda to dance after she had commented that she enjoyed dancing but knew no one would ask her on account of her age.
