Forgotten Fiancée (London Ladies Book 3) Page 2

  Time has changed most things, Dianna thought dazedly as Miles ran his fingers through her hair and tilted her head back, deepening the kiss as he skimmed his tongue along the seam of her lips, but not this. Never this.

  “Dianna.” He groaned her name, and in a fell swoop she came back to herself.

  She remembered what he had done. All the pain he had caused. All the dreams he had broken. Shoving hard against his chest she stumbled back and swiped a trembling hand across her mouth.

  “Do not speak my name,” she said hoarsely. “In fact, do not speak to me at all.” Gaze darting, she looked over his shoulder at Ashburn Manor. The grand estate stood out in sharp contrast against the night sky, all sloping angles and pitched dormers and stained glass windows glowing with the light of a hundred candles.

  “I know you felt that as much as I did,” Miles said quietly. “Say you hate me all you, but don’t deny what is still between us.”

  “I need to leave,” she murmured, refusing to look at him. “I should not be here.” Alone with you. The words flickered through her mind, but she held them at bay. She was done speaking to the likes of Miles Radnor. It was too dangerous to open herself up. Too dangerous to invite old emotions back in. What she still wanted to say would have to go unsaid, for although her heart beat with anger, sorrow lurked just beneath the surface, ready to take over and dissolve her courageous facade into a puddle of worthless tears at a moment’s notice.

  And she would not, she would not, cry in front of him.

  Gloved hands clenching into fists, Dianna pinned them to the sides of her ball gown and started to walk past him, but he stepped directly into her path, his tall, muscular frame blocking out the flickering lights from above.

  She stared steadfastly at his broad chest, still refusing to look up at his eyes for fear they would be her undoing. In the past one glance into the warm green depths was all it had taken for her to forgive him any transgression, however grave. She would not allow herself to make the same mistake again.

  “Move,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Miles crossed his arms, biceps bulging beneath the thin fabric of his rolled sleeves. “No.”

  A woman more prone to temper would have lashed out with a curse, but Dianna had learned at an early age to contain her emotions. Ice burned longer than fire, and it was to ice she now resorted, drawing on the bitter coldness that surrounded her heart to give her the strength she needed to face the one man capable of melting her.

  “Lord Radnor, I do not know what you hoped to accomplish by coming here tonight, but I can assure you your presence was neither anticipated nor welcomed. In short, I do not want you here. I do want to speak to you. I do not want anything to do with you.” Clinging to the last shreds of composure she possessed, Dianna dared to lift her chin and meet his gaze, wanting him to know he no longer had any effect on her.

  At least none she was going to willingly show.

  “Step aside and let me pass,” she demanded. “You have embarrassed yourself enough for one evening, don’t you think?”

  Green eyes unblinking, rugged countenance hard as stone, Miles held his ground and Dianna’s bravado began to falter. For the first time she considered that she was standing in the dark with a veritable stranger; she may have known the boy Miles had been - or so she thought - but she knew nothing about the man he’d become. What lengths would he be willing to go to get what he wanted? Dangerous ones, she thought with a shiver as she caught the steely glint of determination in his gaze and the hard clench of his jaw.

  Seeking another tactic to free herself before her resolve to remain aloof crumbled completely and she fell to pieces, Dianna mustered a thin smile and said, “Please, Lord Radnor. Let me return to the manor. There really is no need to make this more uncomfortable than it already is. If you came here to tell me you have returned to England, then by all means please consider your deed accomplished and let me go.”

  For a long, tense moment she thought he would ignore her request, but with a mocking bow he stepped rigidly to one side of the path. “As you wish, Miss Foxcroft.”

  Lifting her chin until the tiny bones at the nape of her neck ached for release, Dianna glided past him, careful to take tiny, ladylike steps even as every muscle in her body screamed at her to sprint up the hill, find the nearest closet, and lock herself within it.

  A lady never hurries. A lady is always patient. And a lady most certainly never locks herself in closets.

  “This is not over.” Miles may have spoken quietly, but his words carried through the night air and reached Dianna nevertheless. “What is between us, it’s not over. Not yet.”

  She froze mid-step. Part of her mind screamed at her to keep going, but the other part - the wicked part she kept buried deep within that no one other than Miles seemed able to bring to the surface - demanded she hold her ground.

  She turned slowly, jerkily, as though her limbs were attached to strings being controlled by a puppeteer. “Not over?” she repeated in disbelief. Shadows fell like an ebony curtain between them and were it not for the moonlight reflecting off the roof of the stable she would have lost him to the darkness entirely. “It was over four years ago. It was over the moment you left. There is nothing between us now except memories I would rather forget than remember. Let it go, Miles.”

  “Is that what you have done?” he drawled, one thick eyebrow rising in silent challenge. “Have you let it go, Dianna?”

  Looking at Miles now, his powerful body silhouetted in the moonlight and his eyes glowing with a predatory gleam, it was hard for Dianna to find comparison with the lanky youth he’d been. Instead she found herself imagining him as a rogue pirate lord in a time where men took what they wanted when they wanted it, and the shiver that ran down her spine had nothing to do with the growing chill in the air.

  “Yes,” she lied desperately. “I have put it all behind me.”

  Up on the hill a shout echoed, followed by a shriek of laughter. Miles waited for the sounds of celebration and revelry to fade into silence before he said, “I was only a boy, you know.”

  The ache in Dianna’s chest was sharp and sudden. Had Miles taken a dagger and plunged it into her breast she would not have felt any more pain than those seven words conjured.

  “And I was just a girl,” she whispered achingly as she felt one of her carefully mended pieces began to crack and crumble. Wrapping her arms around herself as though she could physically contain all the emotions swirling inside, she bowed her head. “A girl you left brokenhearted and alone without a word of explanation. Not a word, Miles. Not even a note.” The remnants of quiet bewilderment she’d felt on her wedding day still echoed in her voice, the questions she’d had then the same as the ones she had now. Unable to hold them back any longer they burst from her lips, one tumbling into the next. “How could you? How could you do that to me? To us?”

  Countenance unreadable, Miles took a step forward. “Dianna, I-”

  “No.” She took a deep breath, then another, silently willing herself to gain control. It was better if she not know. Better if her questions went unanswered. Better if she let the past be the past. For in truth, there was no answer Miles could give that would sate the ache and the hurt four years of abandonment had built inside of her. “There was a time when I would have accepted your excuses,” she said softly, glancing up at him through her lashes. “There was a time when I even would have forgiven you. But that time has come and gone.”

  The growl that emanated from his chest sounded more wolf than man. “If you will only let me explain-”

  “No.” Dianna’s hand shot into the air, palm facing towards him. “I grew up, Miles. I am no longer the girl you left and you are not the boy I loved. Not anymore.”

  “That is how you want it to be?” he demanded, green eyes feverishly bright in the flickering darkness.

  Though her heart hesitated, her tongue did not. “That is how it is.”

  This time when she turned to go he did not try t
o stop her. Navigating the narrow path with her head raised high and shoulders pulled back, Dianna slowly made her way up the hill towards Ashburn Manor.

  Chapter Two

  The closer Dianna got to the sprawling mansion, the brighter the lights glowed. Shying away from the wedding reception still ongoing inside the palatial estate, she went instead to a dark gazebo on the outskirts of the front lawn.

  A fine layer of dew clung to the hem of her gown by the time she reached the abandoned structure, dampening the thin muslin and soaking through her dancing slippers. Kneeling, she methodically pried off one shoe and then the other, setting them neatly beside the first step before walking barefoot into the gazebo and sitting in the furthest corner.

  From her new vantage point she could just make out the shadowed silhouettes of dancing couples as they swept by the manor’s oversized windows, moving in time to the lively music spilling out through a set of open French doors. It seemed almost impossible that less than an hour ago she been in their midst, carefree and happy, Miles Radnor the very last thing on her mind.

  Now he was the only thing she could think about... no matter how hard she tried not to. But like a hot brand his ruggedly handsome countenance was imprinted in her mind, the hard growl of his voice echoing in her ears.

  This is not over…

  With a sharp cry Dianna jumped to her feet and began to pace the length of the gazebo, heels hitting the wooden boards hard enough to send pain ricocheting up into her calves which she astutely ignored, any physical pain paling in comparison to the agony she felt in her heart.

  Why did Miles have to come back now? As her eyes filled with tears she drew a ragged breath and braced her hands on the railing, shoulders trembling with the force it took to contain her emotions as she stared blindly out into the dark.

  It simply wasn’t fair she thought miserably as a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and slowly trickled down one smooth cheek. It clung briefly to the soft curve of her chin before falling silently on the railing, glinting like the tiniest of diamonds in the silvery light. With a pitiful sniffle Dianna dragged a hand across her face, wiping away any other tears before they could fall. Crying never solved anything, and she’d vowed long ago never to shed another tear over Miles Radnor.

  “Are you... crying?” The shock in Miles’ voice mirrored the shock on his face. He hesitated uncertainly beneath the garden arbor, his lanky frame casting a long dark shadow out across the stone walkway.

  “What do you care?” Dianna asked crossly. Feeling miserable, she hunched forward on the wooden bench she’d been huddled upon for the past hour and wrapped her thin arms around her knees, hugging them close to her flat chest.

  “What’s wrong?” Miles asked. “What’s happened?”

  “Leave me alone,” she said, turning her head away to stare at a cluster of bright yellow tulips. “I do not want to see anyone. I - I am not receiving visitors at this time.” It was what her mama always said when she didn’t want to be bothered, but Miles either hadn’t heard her, or didn’t care to listen.

  He walked to the bench and sat down on the other end of it, the muddy heels of his riding boots scraping on the stone as he kicked his legs out in front of him. “Come on,” he coaxed after a moment, and even though Dianna still had her head turned stubbornly towards the tulips and couldn’t see his face, she heard his smile. “Tell me what the matter is. Maybe I can help.”

  “You cannot,” she muttered, plucking at a loose thread on her skirt. When it snapped free she wound it around her pinky finger, absently tucking the ends under to make a thin ring of blue thread.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you are the matter!” Dianna cried before jumping to her feet and whirling around to face him. Boys, she thought in disgust. They didn’t know anything.

  “Me?” Miles said, his green eyes widening. “What did I do this time?”

  Looking down at the ground, Dianna nudged a tiny pebble off the walkway and into the bushes before she muttered, “You… you wouldn’t take me riding with you this morning.”

  “Riding?” Miles blinked in confusion. “But you hate horses!”

  She huffed out a breath. “I do not hate horses.”

  “You don’t like them. You’re afraid of them. You told me yourself.”

  “That is not the point,” she argued. “You - you should have invited me nevertheless.” Oh, how she hated being left out of things! First her parents, now Miles. The only person who ever seemed have any time for her was Aunt Abigail and she was away in London until the end of next week visiting a friend, leaving Dianna alone and feeling positively wretched. Two more fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t want to keep crying, especially not in front of Miles, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “Stop doing that,” he said, sounding angry.

  “Just leave me alone,” she said with a sniffle. “It is what you’re good at, after all.”

  It was what everyone was good at.

  Unfolding his long, lanky body Miles stood up from the bench and shoved a hand through his hair, leaving the dark curls standing on end when he crossed both arms over his chest. “I am sorry I did not ask you to come riding with me this morning,” he muttered after a long pause.

  Dianna’s lips parted to form a little ‘o’ of surprise. “You - you are?”

  He shrugged and looked away, his gaze darting every which way except for Dianna’s face. “Yes. I mean, I suppose. But I did come calling this afternoon to see if you would like to walk over to Lord Nelson’s stables and see his new colt.”

  “You did?” she said, dumbfounded.

  “I am here, aren’t I?”

  He certainly was, and even though it had not been the most gracious of invitations, Dianna happily accepted. “I would love to go!”

  “Can you stop crying now?” Miles asked, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. His eyes met hers, darted away, then returned in an uneasy stare. “I do not like it when you cry.”

  Obediently Dianna wiped both her cheeks dry using the hem of one sleeve and, with a very loud, very unladylike sniff, swallowed back the rest of her tears. “I do not like it either.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “Because… because I believe it is always better to let your feelings out than trying keep them in. Don’t you ever cry?” she asked curiously.

  Miles shook his head. “Never.”

  “Not even when you are feeling very, very sad?” she pressed, studying him closely for she could always tell when he was not telling the truth. He met her gaze without blinking.

  “Never,” he repeated solemnly.

  “I cry quite often,” she confessed, hanging her head as the admission caused a wave of shame to pinken her cheeks. Feeling a faint pressure on her shoulder she looked up to see Miles had closed the gap between them and now stood with one hand resting reassuringly on her arm. He gave a gentle squeeze, and she managed a tiny smile.

  “Are you often very, very sad?” he asked.

  She nodded. They were standing so close together she could see tiny flecks of gold shimmering in the mossy green of his eyes and suddenly the blush staining her cheeks had little to do with shame and everything to do with Miles.

  He lifted his hand from her shoulder and caught a golden curl that had come loose from the heavy braid she wore at the nape of her neck. Studying the shiny curl as though it were a rare piece of gold, Miles whispered, “Because of your parents never being here?”

  Incapable of speech, she nodded again.

  “But you have me.” Carefully tucking the curl behind the tiny curve of her ear, he took a step back. “From now on, whenever you are very, very sad, I want you to think about me instead of them.”

  “What if you are the reason I am sad?”

  Miles drew his shoulders back. With a look of determination on his young face, he said, “I will never make you cry again, Dianna Foxcroft. I vow it.”

  Haunted by memories of what had been an
d what could never be, Dianna buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

  Chapter Three

  “Do you know where Dianna went?” Selecting a bright red cherry from the middle of an elaborate fruit platter that had been thoroughly picked over in the five hours since the wedding reception had begun, Charlotte Graystone popped it into her mouth and chewed contemplatively as she tried to recall the last time she’d spoken with, let alone seen, her dearest friend.

  Had it been before the Duke of Ashburn gave a lovely speech praising his much adored wife, or after? She picked up another cherry, absently twirling the stem between her thumb and forefinger. After, she decided. Most definitely after. But the newly married Duke and Duchess of Ashburn had discreetly snuck up to bed nearly an hour ago, so where the devil was Dianna now?

  Glancing askance at her husband to see if he had an answer, she hissed out an exasperated sigh when she realized he hadn’t even heard her question. “Gavin. Gavin. Gavin.” Sidling closer, she took a quick glance around to make certain no one was watching before she slipped a hand beneath his extended coattails and pinched his right butt cheek. “There you are, darling,” she said, smiling sweetly when he gave a startled grunt and spun around.

  Gazing down upon his wife’s upturned face, Gavin couldn’t help but smile in return. Charlotte was always beautiful, but tonight she looked positively stunning with her bright auburn hair twisted up in one of those fancy styles that defied gravity and her shapely body tucked inside an emerald green gown that accentuated her curves in all the right places. How is it, he thought for what surely had to be the thousandth time, that I’ve ended up married to such an enchanting creature? He knew other men who claimed that lust and love began to fade the morning after the vows were spoken, but Gavin’s feelings for Charlotte had only intensified during their first few months of marriage. With every day that passed he loved her more, and although their courtship had been neither easy nor conventional, he could not imagine spending a day without her.