Letters to a Lady (22 page)

“Time for our waltz,” he said. As the beguiling strains of Weber’s music filled the room, he drew Diana into his arms to whirl around the floor till her head spun. A dozen questions were begging for answers, but there would be time for that later. Now she wanted to enjoy the too brief pleasure of being in his arms, swirling and spinning in dizzying circles, forgetful of tomorrow and all the dull tomorrows after.

Harrup, his mind seething with thoughts of his own, appeared satisfied with her silence. It wasn’t till the dance was over and he led her to a seat that he noticed they hadn’t exchanged a word. “Chatterbox. Setting up in competition with Selena, are you, Di?” he asked. “That was my second wordless dance this evening.”

“I had a dozen things I wanted to ask you, but the music was too wonderful to spoil. Oh, dear, and now you must go. I see the Eldons are edging toward the door. Your friends aren’t very lively partygoers, are they?”

“My friends are; my colleagues are less frivolous. Tomorrow is another working day. We’ll talk as soon as I get the last of them blasted off.”

In an effort to hasten this moment along, a midnight dinner was served at eleven-thirty. The younger guests who hoped for another round of dancing after dinner were disappointed. The orchestra had been dismissed while they ate. With these little hints staring them in the face, they soon took their leave. Strangely, Lord Markwell was the last to leave.

“Did everything work out all right, Harrup?” he asked as he was being handed his coat by Stoker.

“Excellently. You must thank our mutual friend for me.”

“You won’t forget to put in a word for me when they are choosing new privy councillors?” he mentioned. His speech indicated this subject had arisen before. Diana was bewildered at the man’s gall and Harrup’s calm acceptance of it.

“You have my vote,” Harrup assured him.

Polite good-nights were exchanged; the door was closed on the last guest and bolted with a sigh of relief by Stoker.

“A nice early party, your lordship,” he said.

“Nicer than you know, Stoker.” Harrup smiled, and putting his arm familiarly around Diana’s shoulder, he drew her toward his office. This breach of good taste surprised her. With a blighting look she lifted the offending arm and entered the room by herself.

“I feel I am one of your colleagues,” she said. “We always seem to talk in your office.”

“The servants will be breaking glasses and spilling drinks in the saloon,” he explained. “We will be more private here.”

She turned a questioning face toward him. “Do you have something to say that requires privacy?” The diabolical light in his eyes told her he had and set her pulse pounding with hope. “Harrup, what has been going on here tonight? Why did you let that weasel of a Markwell come, and treat him with special respect, too?”

“I’m sure I explained that already.”

“You didn’t explain why you would support his bid for privy councillor.”

“That was for services rendered.”

She thought for a moment and could make no sense of it. “I know you’re up to something. How dare you leave me out of it? What favor has he done for you?” she demanded.

“He had coerced Mrs. Whitby into helping me,” he admitted.

“Helping you what? I am the one who got you out of that muddle. Harrup—she didn’t have more letters!”

“She did, actually,” he said, and smiled softly.

“You’re hopeless. I don’t know when you ever found time to be a privy councillor. Between romancing Mrs. Whitby in person and writing your maundering drivel to be blackmailed with, you mustn’t have had much time to spare for work. You said there were eight letters. I recovered eight. What new ones are these?”

“These are the two I wrote her this evening,” he said.

Diana felt like a bull taunted by a red flag. “You couldn’t stay away from that painted hussy, could you?” She blinked and stared at him as though he were Satan incarnate. Bereft of words to express her outrage, she turned on her heel and marched to the door. Harrup got there a minute before her and blocked her exit. Taking her by the arm, he led her back and gently pushed her into a chair. When she spotted a bottle of champagne and two glasses on his desk, with a small purple velvet box on the tray beside the glasses, she didn’t bolt up from the chair. Harrup opened the wine and poured two glasses, handed her one.

She lifted her chin and tossed her head, ignoring it. Harrup raised her hand and placed her fingers around the stem. “To us, Di,” he said softly. His smile was enigmatic.

“Which ‘us’ is that, Harrup? You and me and Lady Selena? Or is it you and me and Mrs. Whitby? Perhaps all four of us? I have heard of romantic triangles, but if you actually think to involve me in a—a rectangle, I must tell you—”

“I have no interest in polygons. A straight line is what I shall be walking in future. A straight line, the shortest distance between two points, if memory serves.”

Her heart began thudding in her chest. Two rose circles, very similar in appearance to Mrs. Whitby’s rouge, blushed on her cheeks. Harrup was unaware of them. He was gazing into her blue pixie eyes, where that hardy, intangible hope gleamed once more. Her breaths came in rapid, light gasps. “You wouldn’t recognize a straight line if you fell over one,” she said unevenly.

His lips quivered in delight. “What use would a couple of renegades like us have for straight lines? To us,” he repeated, and lifted his glass to touch hers. The delicate tinkle of crystal on crystal was the only sound in the room. A pall of silence sat around them. Diana slowly lifted her glass, looking at him over its rim, and sipped the champagne.

“And now will you tell me what happened?” she asked, setting the glass aside.

“Soon. First I mean to eliminate the distance between us.” Harrup put his glass aside and drew Diana up from her seat into his arms. She was crushed to his chest while his lips pressed ruthlessly on hers. She felt again the heady sensation of the waltz, as though she were adrift on a sea of sensation, cut loose from dreary reality. She spun in a world where any wonderful thing was possible. Where Harrup was hers, incredibly, in love with her, and a mere bride and mistress were irrelevant.

She had never been kissed so thoroughly or so long before. Nothing had prepared her for the sweep of emotions that surged over her, making her want to cry and laugh, to dance and shout and sing all at once. His lips moved hungrily on hers, and she answered every demand, with her arms curling around his neck to hold him to her.

When he eventually lifted his head, she saw his wild gaze, the pupils dilated till his eyes looked black. There was no mischievous smile now, but a sober gentleness that was new. She had no idea what he would say.

“Diana, you know me with all my faults,” he said simply. His voice was low, ragged, and uncertain. “I’m not a very worthy man. My past is littered with indiscretions, but with you to manage me, I can be as good as you care to make me. I never cared enough before to want to please anyone but myself,” he continued, his tone becoming firmer as he saw the acceptance in her eyes. “I find myself, now, wondering what Di would think of my actions. You have shown me how a gentleman ought to behave, and that such behavior need not be piously sanctimonious—in fact, it can be more fun than lechery. But I doubt I can keep up your standards without you here to remind me from time to time. Will you marry me?”

Her heart soared into the ether. “I will, Charles.” She sighed. “But—”

His lips silenced her, and for a long moment they clung together.

“But are you sure you won’t tire of me, as you tired of Selena and Mrs. Whitby? I daresay the charms of a nag would wear thin very soon,” she warned.

“The nagging will cut two ways, my dear. We shall see who cries craven first. My first nagging has to do with—this,” he said, pushing aside her shawl and touching the bruise on her shoulder. He gazed at it a moment, softly grazing it with warm fingers. “I was appalled when I saw it at dinner—and you didn’t even tell me. There will be no more exploits from me that require you to do battle with Runners and lightskirts.”

“Make that just lightshirts, Charles, if you please. I enjoyed the rest, but that must come to an end. I have already told you I mean to marry for love. I—I do love you very much,” she said shyly. “I mean, I wouldn’t want you to think it’s only the title and your money, though they’re very nice, too, of course.”

His eyes crinkled in a smile. “As well as the handle and money, I solemnly undertake to provide your full conjugal quota of lonely nights and anxiety, but unless you find it in your heart to be jealous of members of Parliament, I must warn you there will be no cause for jealousy.”

She considered it a moment in playful silence. “Two out of three isn’t bad. And now, will you please give me my ring. I have been trying to keep my eyes from wandering to the tray. And tell me whether I have to devise a scheme to be rid of Lady Selena, or have you already taken care of it?”

“I thought it more proper to handle the jilting myself,” he said. He took the velvet box from the tray and opened it. A star sapphire gleamed in a nest of white satin.

She gasped with pleasure. “Oh, Charles! I thought it would be a diamond. They’re so cold they look like a chip of ice. This is lovely.”

He slid it onto her finger. “A star sapphire, to match your eyes. I never did put it in writing, did I? I knew when I saw it at Rundell’s and Bridge’s that it was meant for you.”

She gave him a long, sideways look. “Did you originally buy it for Mrs. Whitby?”

“Diana!” he exclaimed indignantly. “I’m not that bad—to be giving the woman I love a cast-off mistress’s cast-off present! Good God, I was hours searching town for just the right stone. I left work early this afternoon and bought it. I knew when you made me follow Laura that you loved me as I loved you. Despite your tirade, you loved me. I just hadn’t figured out yet how we could manage to overcome a few obstacles. I nearly gave it to you this afternoon when I came home. It was burning a hole in my pocket.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was engaged to Lady Selena at the time.”

“Charles, how did you get out of it?”

“Sharpen your claws, madam wife, and prepare to scratch my eyes out.” He took a deep breath and told his tale. When it was done, she crossed her arms and scowled.

“You wrote to her again after I went to so much trouble to steal her letters? Charles, how could you?”

“I got Markwell’s promise she wouldn’t take them to the newspapers. It was only Groden I wanted to see them. I needed some excuse to make him call off the match, for it was plain as a pikestaff he wouldn’t let Selena do it, and a gentleman is not permitted to act wisely in these affairs. God, it was touch and go. He all but begged me to let on I hadn’t written the letters, though he knew perfectly well I had. Of course he didn’t know when or why. The hell of it is, he didn’t really care that I was visiting my mistress within days of my betrothal. All that mattered was that he could pretend he didn’t know. Once I forced him to acknowledge it, he did the proper thing and rescinded his acceptance of my offer for Selena.”

“He didn’t seem very angry when he left. I had no idea what had happened.”

“Party solidarity. No rift in the ranks, or the demmed Whigs might slip into power.”

“Selena must be in alt.” Diana smiled. “I wonder if Ronald might—”

“Not till we can heap a few honors and some more money on him, I fear. That is why I made him my assistant and let him dally a little with Selena to keep that fire simmering. Groden would never accept a man without a handle to his name, unless he had a fortune. If the romance survives her reading of
Waverley
, something might come of it eventually. I know Ronald will have two able abettors in Lord and Lady Harrup,” he added, squeezing her fingers.

“Lady Harrup,” she mused, spreading her fingers and smiling fondly at her ring. “We cannot announce the engagement for a while, I suppose. It would look so very odd, coming right on top of your other engagement.”

“Nine days is usually the time span for wonders to cease being wonders. I think a man in my position ought to allow a little longer,” he said unhappily.

“We’ll have a short engagement—just long enough for me to go home and arrange my trousseau. I little thought when Peabody received your letter at the Willows how our visit to London would end.” She sighed happily. “I wonder if she will be happy or take the match in aversion.

“Chuggie will talk her around,” he said, confident of his way with Peabody.

“Make the envelope nice and thick. You have no idea how your reputation soars after she receives one of your bribes. Oh, Charles! We must ask Peabody to come to us after—I mean when we need someone for the nursery! That will be even better than money.”

“Much better than money,” he agreed. Charles gazed into space, visions of a new and different future before him. A future with a growing family, a prospering career, and his enchanting, pixie-eyed wife to keep him from too much propriety.

Copyright © 1987 by Joan Smith

Originally published by Fawcett Crest

Electronically published in 2005 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.