Paying the Virgin's Price (7 page)

Chapter Six

         
A
s she sat enjoying morning tea in the small dining room with Verity, Diana tried not to think of the day before. So the girls were convinced that Mr Dale was considering marriage. The idea was as ridiculous as it was appealing. His interest could not be too strong, for she was sure he would not have returned to the Carlow home had Verity and Honoria not forced the issue.

          But once there, he had been more than willing to speak to her. And it was more than that. It was far more telling that he listened. Anyone might speak when trapped alone in a room with a stranger, just to fill the embarrassing silence. He had said very little about himself, but made every effort to draw her out.

          And he had made the curious offer of aid. Perhaps she had misunderstood him, putting too ominous a spin on the words. After years of watching out for the virtue of others, even the most innocent of unguarded comments might be seen as an improper advance. She replayed the exchange endlessly in her mind, trying to see it from all sides. But it became even more confusing with repetition.

          And now, whether she saw him again or not, Verity and Honoria would tease her endlessly on the subject of Mr Dale, just to see her turn pink at the mention of the man's name.

          But if she did see him?

          It was all she could do not to moan aloud at the thought. Her curiosity about him had grown to fascination, and then obsession. If she saw him, she would make a complete cake of herself. Any interest he might have felt would turn immediately to distaste, once he saw her behaviour.

          It was disaster.

          She gave Verity a weak smile over her cup of tea, and wished Honoria a good morning as the girl appeared in the doorway, yawning and sorting through the morning's mail. 'Here, Diana. A letter addressed to you.' Honoria held it out to her, and then snatched it back, holding it to her temple, as though trying to divine the contents. 'Too thick for a
billet doux
. I wonder what it might be?' She passed the letter to her friend.

          'What utter nonsense, Honoria. You really are being most unfair to me. If you are not careful, I shall remember this behaviour. And when you receive a letter, I shall return the torment.' She tried not to appear as excited as she was, but she rarely received mail. It was even more rare to receive it unexpectedly, and she had no idea what this might be. She ran a finger along the edge of the folded paper to pop the sealing wax.

          Bank notes fluttered to the table in front of her. It was as startling as if she had opened the letter to a flight of moths. She leaned back in her chair, as though afraid to let the things touch her dress.

          'Ohhh my.' Verity had no such fear and came to her side to scoop the notes off the floor and into an organized pile on the table, counting as she went. 'There is all of thirty-four pounds here. Who sent it?'

          Diana's mind was too numb to scold her charge for the impudence of the question. In truth, she was curious to know the answer. She picked up the letter, searching both sides for information. 'I do not know. There is my address, right enough. But there is no return.' She turned the paper. 'And no message, either.'

          'Why would anyone send such an odd number?' Honoria asked. Was there a debt that needed paying?'

          Diana stared at the money on the desk. 'None owed to me.' There might have been, to her father. But it was far more likely a debt was owed by her, than to her. And why would the money have come to her now, so many years after it might have helped?

          'Well it is nowhere near your birthday. Or Christmas, for that matter,' Verity said.

          Honoria riffled through the stack. 'And it does not look as if the person went to the bank for the money. The bills are all odd. Creased. Old.'

          'But legal tender, all the same,' she told them. The Carlow girls were used to their money, clean and neatly folded, going straight from their brother's hand into their reticules. They had never been forced to search their father's pockets after a night of gambling, hoping that there would be a little left to pay the grocer.

          The memory shocked Diana, for it had been so long, she'd thought it forgotten. But at the sight of the somewhat ragged bills before her, the past came flooding back and brought bitterness with it. Pound notes hurriedly gathered and stuffed into a pocket or purse. Not stacked neatly, but front to back, and upside down. This was enough to be very near a year's salary to a paid companion. But someone had thrust it into an envelope as though it were nothing, and addressed it to her. She stared at the writing on the letter, trying to divine masculine from feminine. The letters were roughly formed, as though the writer had wished to conceal his or her identity.

          'Well, whoever it was seemed to think it most important that you receive this,' Verity said. 'You are sure that you have no idea?'

          'None.'

          'No belated gifts from estranged godparents?'

          'I have none, estranged or otherwise.'

          'No family that has gone to the continent or the colonies to make their fortune?' suggested Honoria with a smile.

          Diana held it up to her. 'It is a London postmark, Honoria. There is nothing exotic about it.'

          'No pending bequests from rich uncles?'

          Diana laughed. 'Of course not. You know I have no family. And even if I did, they would not be so secretive.'

          Verity smiled in triumph. 'Then it must be from an admirer. Someone is pained to see you forced into the shadows, toiling to maintain our good name. That someone wishes you a chance to better yourself. And I know just such a one. It is from Mr Dale.'

          'Verity!' Diana was sure that her cheeks could not get any more pink at the thought of the man, for she could feel them burning already. 'It can be no such thing, and I forbid you to say that again. Mr Dale would have no reason to send me a large sum of money, on a whim. And even if he did, the gesture would not be kindly in the least. It would...' She struggled to think of a way to explain, one that did not confirm her worst fears about the man. 'It would be most improper. Only one sort of gentleman would offer money to a female. And only one sort of female would accept it.'

          'Do you think that he means to make you his mistress?' Honoria's eyes grew wide with curiosity.

          'Honoria! It is most unladylike of you to entertain that idea. But if a gentleman well outside of his dotage gave me a substantial amount like this, I would not think that it was out of concern for my future or well-being. I would return it immediately, for I would assume that he expected something in exchange for it that I did not wish to give him.'

          Honoria stared at the pile of bills on the table. 'Then he would be the most cold-blooded and foolish paramour imaginable. Surely he must know that jewellery would be a better temptation, when persuading a woman to part with her honour. And to not enclose an address?' She waved her hand over the money. 'It is very difficult to demand thanks for the gift if one does not identify oneself when sending. Is he likely to make an appearance, regretfully inform you that he forgot to enclose his card when offering a
carte blanche
, and then expect you to fall at his feet? I seriously doubt it, Diana. More likely, he was moved by your situation and feared you were in need of help. But the natural shyness and reservation he displayed towards you, when talking with us, left him awkward and unsure of how best to aid you. So he posted you the contents of his purse. But he feared that you would take it just as you have suggested, and throw the money back in his face. So he gave no return address to prevent you.'

          Diana dearly wished that this was the case. For it would allay her suspicions about their last meeting. But if he had truly meant to offer help, why could he not have forgone the money and renewed the offer with a note of apology and explanation?

          Unless he did not wish to see her again, or lead her to believe that there was anything at all romantic about his interest in her. Her heart fell a little at the most probable truth. And then she looked back to the money and sighed. 'Well, whoever sent it, I certainly cannot keep it. They are mistaken if they think I need financial help. I am secure in my position here.'

          'Until we are both married,' Verity pointed out. 'And I suppose that will happen soon. Honoria, you must make a choice from amongst your many admirers, for it is cruel to make them wait. And for me?' She sighed as well, as though the idea were a burden to her. 'There is the matter of finding an appropriate gentleman. But once I apply myself to the task...'

          Diana cut short the girl's fears, for sometimes it did not sound as if Verity wished to marry at all. '
When
you settle is beside the point. You will do it when the time is right. You need not give a thought to what will happen to me after. But when you no longer need me, I have set aside a small savings that will keep me until another position can be found.'

          Verity looked at the money again. 'We will not worry, for we know that you have at least thirty-four pounds. Enough for a year's worth of rainy days, right there on the table.'

          It nearly doubled what she had set aside for herself. 'But I cannot keep it,' Diana said again, firmly so as to assure herself. 'It is far too much to be proper. Perhaps a deserving charity--'

          'How utterly ridiculous.' Honoria's autocratic nature was showing again. 'You are worthy enough for this, Diana. And we will not allow you to get up on your high horse and give this away. Is there nothing you want? No unfulfilled dreams that might be achieved with the help of this money?'

          'Dreams?' Diana resisted the urge to flinch at the word. She had worked very hard in the last ten years to rid herself of dreams. But now that the money was before her...'No,' she said firmly. 'There is nothing.'

          'There is,' Honoria said in triumph. 'I saw it in your eyes, just now.'

          'It is not enough money. It hardly matters, really.'

          Verity tugged her arm. 'Speak, Diana. Tell us. You know you want to.'

          'A house.' Diana blurted the word. 'Just a cottage. It needn't be much. But all my own. And enough money to live in it, and know that it would be mine forever.' With a door to lock, should her father's biggest mistake ever catch up with her.

          Honoria was looking at her with the eyes of one who had never known loss. 'Well. That is certainly not what I expected you to say. Not very exciting at all.'

          Diana thought back to the day when they had been forced to leave her home, just minutes ahead of the arrival of the new owner, fleeing in terror of a man that she had never met. 'Excitement is not always what we expect, Honoria. It might not be pleasurable at all.'

          Verity was blinking at her in confusion, with the blank look of one that had been coddled and protected her entire life. But good-hearted soul that she was, her expression quickly changed to one of sympathy and encouragement. 'How foolish of us. It is quite possible for your dreams and ours to be very different, and yet very important, is it not?' She held out her hands to her friend. 'Forgive us. If it is a cottage of your own that you wish, then there would be no harm in keeping the money, would there? Perhaps it is not enough. But surely, it could be a nest egg. You will have it on that day that you have no more silly young girls to care for.'

          She looked down at the money again, letting Verity's words tempt her. Perhaps it would not be such a bad thing to hold the money for a while. At least until she could figure out who sent it. There might be a perfectly logical explanation that she had not thought of. And she would feel most foolish if she gave away a windfall that she was truly entitled to. 'You are right, I think. It does no harm to keep the money, as long as I do not mean to fritter it away on nonsense.'

          'Like another trip to Bond Street?' Honoria suggested.

          Which was tempting, Diana had to admit. It would be too easy to convert some of the money in front of her into a new bonnet, which was a thing she wanted, but certainly did not need. She shook her head. 'That is exactly the sort of foolishness I mean to avoid. It will be far better for us to go to the park for a time, and take some fresh air.'

Chapter Seven

         
N
ate lifted his face to the sky, looking at the light dappling through the leaves in the trees of Hyde Park. The sun was shining bright today, and it was good to be out in it. After all the long months onboard the
Endeavor
, being burned and blinded, Nate had thought he'd had enough of the damned sunlight, and that the windowless gloom of a gaming hell was most preferable. But this morning had been different. When he'd sent the money off to Diana yesterday, he had felt the change. Even after gambling until almost dawn, he'd felt an unaccustomed lightness of spirit that had been buoyed as he'd tossed a portion of his winnings to the children begging on the street. He could not make all things right for the girl by putting a few pounds in an envelope, but at least he had done something. Perhaps, with time, he could come up with a better solution.

          On the cab ride back to Hans Place, he'd signalled the driver to let him out before the park so that he might walk the rest of the way. He needed a fresh breeze and spring sunlight on his face. He needed a change. He took a deep breath and smiled. This was what he needed: to walk in daylight like a normal man, instead of creeping home with the dawn and sleeping through the day. Even if it was just for the morning, he needed some proof that his life could be changeable, like the weather. A sign that he was on the cusp of a new season.

          'Mr Dale!' The voice of Verity Carlow cut through him like a sugar-coated knife and reality came crashing back. It had been foolhardiness itself to attempt a walk through Hyde Park at this hour, when anyone might be taking the morning air. And if Miss Carlow was present, then that must mean...

          He turned towards the voice with a pained smile. 'Lady Verity. And Lady Honoria. And Miss Price as well. How good to see you all.'

          The ladies made their curtseys, and Verity addressed him again. 'And you as well, Mr Dale. It is just as I suspected. We are destined to meet.'

          'Yes. I suspect it is our fate.' Damn that Gypsy. 'You are all well, I trust?'

          'Very much so, sir.'

          He glanced over at Diana Price, who seemed to be going pink in the early morning sun. 'And you, Miss Price, are better, I trust?'

          'Better?' She looked at him curiously, with a slight smile. 'I do not recall being ill.'

          Damn again. He had been thinking of the money, and the difference it would make to her future. He should know nothing of it, or what was the point of anonymity? 'Well, I mean. Well, as well. As well, as Lady Verity. That is to say. Also well.' And now the words were hopelessly tangled. He allowed them to trail into silence.

          The younger of the sisters gave a small giggle and Lady Honoria said, 'We are going, after our walk, to Bond Street so that Miss Price might buy a new gown.'

          'Or perhaps not.' Miss Price seemed to be of two minds on the subject, no matter how Honoria felt about it. And then, she turned back to him. 'And in answer to your question: Yes, thank you. I am most well. And you, sir?'

          He was in hell. Suffering the torment of giggling debutantes and their dark-eyed companions. 'Fine also, thank you.'

          And that should have been all that was required of him. But Lady Verity chose that moment to spy someone over her shoulder. 'Penelope and Charlotte Veryan are just down the path. I have been meaning to speak with them for ages. And Honoria, you have as well.'

          'I have?' Lady Honoria seemed surprised by the fact.

          Her sister seized her by the sleeve. 'Of course you have. Now come along immediately, or we will miss them. You do not mind walking a ways with Miss Price, do you sir?'

          Nate's head ducked beneath his collar, and without thinking, he turned away, to make sure that the Veryan sisters did not spot him, even in profile. He could not remember if they'd even existed at the time of the scandal, but it seemed unwise to give them a reason to take a description of him back to their father, Lord Keddinton of the Home Office.

          The man was the number one spy catcher in the country, and had made a good part of his reputation on the disgrace and hanging of the Earl of Leybourne. God knew what he would do if he realized that Nathan Wardale had resurfaced and was sniffing about the Carlow family. He smiled at Verity and then at Diana, and lied through his teeth. 'Do I mind the company of Miss Price? Not at all.' In truth, it was almost as awkward as a meeting with the Veryans.

          Almost, but not quite. And since the Carlow girls were gone as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he could not very well run off like a rabbit and leave Diana alone. He turned to look at her.

          She must have seen the helpless confusion on his face, for she gave a short laugh. 'Really, Mr Dale. It cannot be as bad as all that to be forced into my company. You are free to go, if you wish.'

          He hung his head, embarrassed to have been caught in the thought. 'Forgive me, Miss Price. It is not your company that concerns me. Well, not precisely. It is just that--' He broke off, before he told her any more of the truth and ruined everything. 'I must apologize for yesterday's conversation. I am sure that my excessive curiosity was most inappropriate. But I meant nothing by it.'

          'Then I shall take nothing from it.' She smiled at him with obvious charity. But was there a touch of disappointment in her eyes. Why would that be? Unless she had enjoyed his interest in her and wished it to be more than polite small talk.

          Then he realized that he had allowed a gap in the conversation, as he'd stood dumbstruck, trying to fathom what she might be thinking. So he cleared his throat, and said with a smile, 'And now, I am behaving strangely again, I think.'

          She nodded. 'That is the way, sometimes. If one is by nature reticent, or unaccustomed to speaking with those of the opposite gender, then conversation can be difficult.'

          She thought him shy did she? And awkward around women? The idea was so ludicrous that he almost laughed in response. It would not do for one so pretty as Diana Price to think him unable to talk to women. There were any number of ladies who could assure her that he was most charming. He was certain he had heard the word irresistible used on several occasions. 'That is not the...' And then he realized that the sort of women he normally conversed with could hardly be called ladies. And that there was a perfectly obvious reason that he found it so difficult to talk to Diana Price. But that he could not very well explain it to her. And so he allowed the untruth to stand, gave a shrug and added, 'It is far too difficult to explain.'

          She smiled in encouragement. 'If you wish to attempt it, you will find me a most receptive listener.'

          And there it was again. A sparkle in her eye and a hint that she would welcome his interest. He cast her a sidelong glance. 'I imagine you are skilled in that as well, since you are a professional companion.'

          She nodded, making no effort to speak. Even in her silence, she was teasing him, and he relaxed enough to smile back. Without thinking about it, he turned and gestured to the path, away from Verity and Honoria. They began to walk, falling easily into step with each other. 'Perhaps I could persuade you to speak. It would be much easier for me to ask about you than to explain myself. Tell me more about yourself, Miss Price.'

          She seemed just as surprised as he had been to have the conversation turned back to her. 'There is not much to tell that you have not already heard. I have been tending to the needs of others since I was seventeen. I believe we discussed it, when last we met.'

          'And before that?' he asked gently.

          She paused, and he wondered if it might stir some rancour or sadness in her. But her pace stayed as placid as it had been. 'I had an unremarkable childhood. My mother died when I was seven. There were no other children.' She gave a small frown. 'My father was very loving, but not particularly wise. He lost his fortune and our home, and I was forced to seek employment.' She glanced at him, quickly. 'That is not to say I did not love him very much. Or that he was not good to me, except in that one thing.'

          'Of course.' He rushed to say it. 'But sometimes, when a man is a gambler, he does not realize what he has done until after.'

          She looked up sharply. 'I did not say he was a gambler.'

          'You did not?' Of course she hadn't. And how was he to explain that bit of knowledge? 'I am so sorry if I assumed incorrectly. But that is frequently the cause of sudden reversals of fortune amongst gentlemen.'

          She sighed. 'You guessed correctly, Mr Dale. But the problem was long ago, and hardly concerns me, truly. It has not been a bad life, not really. After the night he lost the house...my father ceased gambling.'

          There was an odd pause in the middle of the sentence that made Nate wonder how much she knew about what had truly happened.

          'After he saw me safely employed, he went North for a time. But he visited me frequently. Our lives were harder than they had been, of course.' She smiled at him, the lines on her face smoothing to tranquillity. 'But better. Everything was so much better, once he put down the cards for the last time.'

          Did she know the reason for her father's sudden abstinence? If she did not know the full truth, then perhaps she felt Nathan Wardale had done her a service by ruining her father. But he knew exactly what had happened, and would never feel right on the matter. 'So it ended well, then. That is good to know.'

          She turned her head and smiled fondly back at Verity and Honoria. 'I have been quite happy with the Carlows. And I shall be most glad to see them make matches. Their brother, Lord Stanegate, has recently found a wife. Perhaps it will inspire them.'

          He smiled. 'Marc is the first of us to marry, then. But he is at that time in life when a man must consider his future.'

          'You knew him as a child, you said?'

          'Yes. He was a bit younger than me. Still is, younger of course.'

          'And already married.'

          And it was obvious the direction the conversation had taken. Without meaning to, he was half way to offering for the girl. Which could have been a fine thing, since she was delightful. She would have been perfect for him, if she had been any other woman in the world. And if perhaps, he was a different man.

          He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to mop at the sweat he could feel springing out on his forehead, and heard a small thump as something fell from his coat and onto the ground at their feet.

          And there, before them, was the little volume of poetry from Diana Price's bedroom, her ribbon still marking the place. Without thinking, he must have put it in his pocket on leaving the room.

          Being the helpful sort of person that she was, Diana looked down at the thing, then stooped to pick it up. 'You seem to have dropped something, Mr Dale.' And then, she saw the title. 'Shakespeare?' she exclaimed. 'Is he a favourite of yours?'

          'Yes. I like him very much.'

          'I do as well. I used to have my own copy of the sonnets, and read it many times. But it has been so long.'

          Of course she had. And here was her own hair ribbon in the same place she had left it, waiting to be recognized. He held his breath, expecting the moment of revelation. But it passed. For she opened the book, paging through it and removing the ribbon, tucking it to the back. It was a plain thing of blue satin, much like many others, he assumed. She was examining the book as though the marker held no special meaning. 'This is even the same edition I remember.'

          'You must take it then.'

          'That is not necessary,' she rushed to assure him. 'If I wished, the library...'

          'It is hardly anything.' To give back something that had given her pleasure? That was less than nothing, for it only brought them closer to being even. But when he searched his heart, he knew that it was right, for it made him feel better to do it, even knowing that she might recognize the thing. 'Please. I insist. It is not new. But I would be honoured to part with it, if you enjoy it.' He reached out without thinking, and clasped Diana's hands to press the book into them. They were well shaped, tiny in his, smooth and warm in their kid leather gloves. He looked into her eyes which were shining bright with happiness.

          And her gaze dropped demurely to the open book in front of her and the place where their hands were joined. 'The age of the book is not important. The words in it are just as true as they ever were. Thank you.'

          So much joy from something so small. And the smile on her face made him feel like a Galahad. As long as the moment was taken out of context. Because otherwise... He looked up, desperate for a distraction. 'Ahh. I see the ladies are returning from their visit.' And not a moment too soon. He stepped hurriedly away from Diana and raised a hand to hail them.

          The girls came back to them, in an obvious state of excitement. 'Diana,' Verity said breathlessly, 'the most wonderful news.'

          Honoria continued, 'We have been invited to a party at Lord Davering's. Everyone of consequence will be there, I am sure. And we are to accompany Lord Keddinton and his daughters.'

          And Nate watched as, without thinking, Diana forgot the book in her hand and the man in front of her, and dropped easily back into her role as chaperone. 'Would this by any chance be a card party?' She must know very well that it was, for the Davering parties were well on their way to being notorious.

          'Small stakes only,' Verity insisted. 'A few hands of casino in the lady's room would do us no harm, surely.'

          'A few hands?' Diana raised an eyebrow. 'It seldom stops at that.'

          'It is nothing,' Honoria argued. 'Lord Keddinton is Verity's godfather. He does not think it improper, or he would not allow his daughters to go. And all the other girls--'