Nicole Jordan (28 page)

When he straightened, as if meaning to accompany her, she held up a hand. “We should return separately. There is no point in pouring fuel on the fire by us being seen together.”

Peering down at herself, Diana straightened her disheveled gown. When Thorne took a step closer, she froze, but he only reached up to tuck a stray tendril behind her ear.

“You can’t return looking like you’ve just been ravished.”

“No, that would definitely be unwise.” Diana managed an uneven smile. “I assure you, I will be fine, Thorne. I’ve had a great deal of practice facing scandal. Although I suppose I should don my hair shirt first. It goes against the grain to cow down before society, but for Amy’s sake, I will have to show remorse and proper humility.”

Taking a deep breath to bolster her courage, she turned and made her way through the tropical jungle without once looking back.

Thorne watched her go, his own emotions in turmoil.

Diana’s bravery was unexpectedly endearing, especially in light of his own culpability. He wasn’t at all accustomed to feeling guilt, but it was pummeling him now with a vengeance. He should have considered the potentially damning consequences before bringing her here and seducing her where they might be discovered.

He hadn’t argued further with Diana, but marrying her was the only honorable course after he had compromised her so thoroughly. Her virginity might still be intact, but he’d been within a heartbeat of taking her. If not for the untimely interruption, he very likely would have.

Thorne shook his head, amazed that the prospect of shackling himself in the bonds of matrimony wasn’t quite so terrifying or loathsome as he would have found it barely two months ago. When he’d first proposed a betrothal to Diana, he hadn’t truly considered going through with a marriage. He’d been too long conditioned to avoid commitment. Too reluctant to give up his freedom.

But now he had no choice. He didn’t want Diana hurt by another scandal, especially one that
he
had caused. Marriage would protect her name in a way nothing else could.

Having to wed her wouldn’t wholly be a sacrifice, either, Thorne mused with a thoughtful frown. Admittedly he was drawn to her intelligence and spirit. And she had never once bored him. Quite the contrary, Diana was one of the most intriguing women of his acquaintance. She was independent enough that she wouldn’t try to control him, so that he could continue to live his life much as he pleased. Furthermore, his marriage would prevent any more of his father’s haranguing, which was a significant benefit in itself, Thorne acknowledged with a sardonic smile.

In any event, at some point he would need to marry and sire an heir to carry on the title, just as his father had wanted all along. And compared with all the marital candidates the duke had pressed on him, Diana was a far, far better match.

Thorne felt his eyes glinting as he tallied her attributes. He had little doubt they would be sexually compatible, or that she would prove a match for him. He’d met few women of her genteel station who could make a suitable wife for a Guardian, but Diana could possibly fit that bill. His growing trust in her and respect for her abilities and judgment were arguments in her favor, at least.

Of course, Diana had several arguments of her own against their marriage. Thorne found himself frowning again as he remembered.

Her adamant refusal of his proposal had taken him aback. He’d expected her to be resigned to the inevitability, if not grateful to him for proposing a solution. Her chief reason was that there was no love between them, yet love was certainly not a prerequisite for marriage.

Straightening his clothing, Thorne turned and headed toward the orangery door.

Her refusal notwithstanding, he meant to wed Diana Sheridan. She would simply have to accept that unalterable fact.

When Diana returned to the ballroom, she was grateful to find the Prince Regent in attendance, since the spectacle His Highness presented took inquisitive eyes off her, while ensuring that the ball would be a victory for Amy and Cecily.

For the time being, Diana held off seeking out her cousin, not wanting to spoil Amy’s moment of glory, yet she had little doubt her reprieve would be short-lived. For the next hour she felt as if she had swallowed an entire packet of pins as she waited anxiously for the scandal to break.

When she caught sight of Miss Marling gleefully chattering to a gaggle of her friends—and saw the malicious smile the scheming young beauty shot her across the crowded room—Diana knew the moment of her downfall had come.

As soon as Prinny left the ball with his fawning entourage in tow, Diana pulled Amy away from her cluster of admiring beaux and took her down the hall to the library, so they might have some privacy. There, Diana made her confession, revealing that she had been discovered in a compromising position with Thorne and that she suspected a scandal was about to ensue.

Amy heard the tale in silence, her face growing more pale by the second, her distress obvious at the conclusion.

“Oh, Diana,” she murmured in a hoarse whisper. “This could ruin all our chances—mine and Cecily’s. You
know
how crucial this ball is to our successful debut. And now”—her blue eyes filled with tears—“this may very well bring disgrace down on all our heads.”

Feeling a large measure of shame and chagrin, Diana kept her voice low. “I am sorry, Amy. I should have considered the ramifications before letting myself go off alone with Thorne.”

The girl’s lower lip trembled, while fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “It does seem the slightest bit hypocritical. You have scolded me often enough for my lack of decorum, and now you have behaved like a wanton yourself.”

Amy was lashing out in bitter disappointment, Diana knew, yet she had no defense against the accusation. But then she took a deep breath. It had been her duty to protect and guide her vulnerable young cousin, and she had nothing to apologize for in being restrictive.

“My behavior, hypocritical or not,” Diana said quietly, “is beside the point. My chief intent has been to prevent you from making the same wretched mistake I made, Amy. To keep you from throwing your life away on a fortune-hunter. If I tried to restrain your excesses, it was only for your own good.”

Surprisingly, that declaration seemed to bolster Amy’s spirits. Gulping back a sob, she dashed furiously at her streaming eyes and raised her chin. “Well, you needn’t fear that I am still infatuated with Reginald Kneighly. I have told him we are finished. He neglected me once too often.”

Comprehending that Amy had broken off her lamentable romance with Kneighly, Diana felt a fierce wave of relief that was almost enough to compensate for the self-castigation she was feeling.

She was furious at herself for putting her cousin’s reputation at risk. But now at least she had another option. If she no longer needed to keep such a close watch over the girl, then she could distance herself from Amy as she’d meant to do all along, before her pretend betrothal to Thorne.

“You cannot be any more upset with me than I am with myself,” Diana said finally. “But I hope to prevent any taint of scandal from rubbing off on you. First thing tomorrow, I will move out of Lady Hennessy’s house and go to live in my studio.”

“Perhaps that would be best,” Amy agreed in a quivering voice, her misery apparent. “It cannot make up for betraying her ladyship’s kindness, of course, but…” Shaking her head, Amy turned abruptly and hurried from the library.

Alone, Diana winced at the bitter truth of the accusation; she had indeed betrayed the countess in addition to jeopardizing the girls’ chances for a successful Season.

She swallowed the sudden ache in her throat, yet she couldn’t manage to shrug off her own misery as she slowly followed Amy back to the ballroom.

For the rest of the night, Diana avoided any further intimacy with Thorne, refusing to be seen in his company. But she could tell by the numerous looks flung her way that the damage was already done; in a matter of hours, she had become a social leper.

One haughty dowager gave her a direct cut, while the Duke of Redcliffe’s expression held a hint of scorn and perhaps even disappointment.

It was four in the morning before the last guests departed in their carriages. Diana had forced herself to remain in the ballroom until the bitter end, determined not to cower, but also in order to have a private word with Lady Hennessy before she retired to bed.

They left the bleary-eyed servants extinguishing candle flames of myriad chandeliers and mounted the stairs together.

“I fancy the ball went ‘famously,’ as the girls are wont to say,” the elder lady proclaimed as they reached the first landing. “Better than I could even have wished for. Prinny’s attendance sealed it, don’t you think?”

“It was a major success,” Diana agreed. “But Judith, I fear there was one horrendous problem—”

Lady Hennessy had evidently heard about the uproar, for she gave Diana a sympathetic smile and patted her hand. “Thorne told me about it, my dear. I know it distresses you, but I daresay it will all look better in the morning after a good night’s sleep.”

Not wishing to wait until then to deal with her disgrace, Diana tried again. “Judith, you know I cannot remain here any longer—”

“We shall discuss it in the morning,” Lady Hennessy said firmly. “I am so weary, I could swoon right here.”

Chagrined to have been so inconsiderate of the elder lady’s needs, Diana turned the countess over to her maid and sought her own bed.

Despite her own weariness, however, Diana spent a sleepless night and dragged herself down to the breakfast room at around ten o’clock, feeling utterly wretched. To her surprise, Lady Hennessy joined her a short while later, announcing that her two charges were still abed.

She allowed a footman to serve her coffee and soft-boiled eggs with toast before giving the servant a polite dismissal.

“Now then, my dear,” she said kindly when they were alone, “what is all this dustup about?”

Once more Diana found herself confessing an abbreviated version of the events last evening, when she had been discovered in the orangery with Thorne.

Lady Hennessy made a face, as if she had swallowed a lemon. “That outrageous Marling minx should be given a good strapping by her mother. The girl has been after Thorne for a donkey’s age. But it is ludicrous to think of her wedded to my nephew. She is merely green with jealousy, my dear, and thus is determined to ruin you.”

“I realize that, but I still should have made certain my conduct was above reproach.”

“Well, that milk is spilt now. What you must do immediately is announce the date for your wedding. The sooner you wed Thorne, the sooner this contretemps will all blow over.”

Diana bit back her instinctive reply. She had no intention of going through with her betrothal to Thorne, either sooner
or
later, but she could scarcely tell Lady Hennessy that. She was still obliged to keep up their pretense of a love match.

“I don’t wish to put any undue pressure on Thorne, Judith,” she said merely. “I am still not convinced he truly wants to wed anyone, despite his claim to love me. And I think it is a terrible mistake to marry where love isn’t certain.”

“If you are speaking of Thorne’s long-held aversion to marriage, you needn’t worry. He simply has never met the right woman before now. All the ladies he knows are far too tame for him. And of course he could never wed one of his opera dancers. Despite his rebellious tendencies, Thorne knows what is due his family name.”

Before Diana could reply, Lady Hennessy went on blithely as she spread jam on her toast. “Furthermore, men of his stamp don’t like being chased. Females have been casting out lures for Thorne since he left off short coats. And if you only knew of all the encroaching mamas who have flung their daughters at his head.”

The countess harrumphed in disgust. “And to make matters worse, my brother has made a huge mistake with Thorne for years, demanding that he wed for convenience. Ivan married strictly for convenience—a political alliance, as well as the union of two very large fortunes—and Thorne wants nothing of the sort for himself. I can perfectly understand why. He is a rebel and a daredevil with a lust for life, Diana, and a cold-blooded marriage would be like steel shackles to him.”

“I also can understand, Judith. Which is why I want to make absolutely certain of Thorne’s heart before we enter into an irrevocable union.”

Lady Hennessy smiled. “I tell you, his reluctance to wed stems from the candidates he has been offered thus far. He simply doesn’t want a milksop bride. He needs a woman who can prove his match. A woman he can love.” The countess gazed evenly at Diana. “I believe you could be that woman, my dear. Even if Thorne originally proposed to you merely to defy his father.”

“So you know?” Diana asked in dismay.

“I had my suspicions. I see through my scapegrace nephew very well.”

Diana forced a smile. “I am touched by your faith in me, Judith. You are very kind—and very wise. But you can see why it would never work out between Thorne and myself.”

“I am not so certain of that. Marriage could lead to love. Thorne admires you; that much is obvious. And you clearly have a mutual fondness and attraction.”

Diana couldn’t deny her attraction for Thorne. And she certainly admired him. She yearned for everything he represented: adventure, freedom, living life on one’s own terms. She had spent the last six years of her life longing to be free of society’s strictures.

For a moment she even let herself fantasize about a true marriage with Thorne, where love and passion were the cornerstones. She had once dreamed of passionately loving a man who loved her passionately in return.

But Diana quickly shook her head, banishing that impossible notion. Her chances for a marriage like that were hopeless now.

Thorne wasn’t the kind of man to give his heart. And she couldn’t afford to risk hers again. She had vowed never to let herself become that vulnerable to any man again.

A real marriage to Thorne would leave her too defenseless. She couldn’t wed him, knowing he didn’t love her. Nor could she look into his eyes, knowing she had trapped him.