Forgotten Fiancée (London Ladies Book 3) Page 21

  “What the devil did you do that for?” he hissed, the whites of his eyes flashing in the dimly lit theater box as he swiveled in his seat to glare at her.

  “You were snoring,” Dianna lied.

  “Was not.”

  “Were too.”

  “Will both of you be quiet!” Leaning across her husband, Lady Radnor fixed both of them with a stern glare that instantly had Dianna clamping her mouth shut and cowering in her seat.

  She wasn’t just frightened of Miles’ mother. She was terrified. It seemed no matter what she did nor how well she minded her manners, Lady Radnor was never satisfied. While Miles could do no wrong in her eyes, it seemed Dianna could do no right.

  Accustomed to dealing with a parent who was similarly dissatisfied Dianna knew the best thing to do… was nothing at all. At least Lord Radnor seemed to find her quite agreeable, and since both families had arrived in London two weeks past in preparation of another Season she’d had more conversations with Miles’ father than her own.

  Determined to behave throughout the rest of the play and not give Lady Radnor another excuse to reprimand them, Dianna straightened her spine to the point of pain and stared straight at the middle of the stage where a sword fight was currently ongoing between two characters dressed all in black. The sound of clashing metal echoed all the way up to the Radnor’s box seat and within moments Dianna found herself enthralled in the action, holding her breath along with the rest of the audience as the actors lunged and retreated in a feigned dance of death.

  Unfortunately, Miles did not seem find the play quite as entertaining.

  Dianna released a startled yelp when she felt her arm pinched and twisted to face him as she rubbed the offended area. “Why did you do that?” she whispered in annoyance, unconsciously repeating word for word the same question he’d asked her when she nudged him awake.

  Green eyes glittering with amusement Miles cocked an eyebrow and said, “The same reason you did.”

  “That was entirely different!” she protested.

  “Yeah?” he said skeptically. “How so?”

  “I was helping you. If your mother caught you sleeping she would have been very angry.” And would have no doubt found some way to blame me for it, Dianna thought sullenly.

  Miles snorted. “You worry too much.”

  “I thought I told you to be quiet!” Jaw rigid with anger, Lady Radnor glared first at her son before setting her disapproving gaze on Dianna. “You are embarrassing us.”

  Cheeks suffusing with color, Dianna hung her head. “Lady Radnor, I am so very-”

  “Dianna is not feeling well,” Miles interrupted. “I am going to escort her outside for some fresh air.”

  Startled, Dianna glanced at Miles and caught the nearly imperceptible shake of his head as he warned her to remain silent.

  “What is wrong with her?” Lady Radnor asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. “She seemed fine when we arrived.”

  Keep her head lowered, Dianna bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from saying something untoward. She despised it when adults talked as though she weren’t sitting right in front of them. As though she did not have a voice. As though she were invisible.

  “A touch of fever,” Miles said. “Nothing serious.”

  “Fever?” Lady Radnor recoiled from Dianna as though she had leprosy. “Heavens, and to think we all came in the same carriage. Take her away at once, Miles. You know your sister has not been feeling well. The last thing I need is for her to catch a fever. Your father and I will find you once the play has commenced.”

  “Why would you say that?” Dianna demanded the moment they were outside the theater.

  “It got us out of there, didn’t it?” Miles shoulder jerked in a careless shrug before he leaned up against a lamppost. Muted light illuminated one side of his face, showcasing the handsome slant of his jaw and half of a crooked grin. Over the past six months Miles had finally begun to grow into his lanky frame and now towered a good six inches above Dianna, forcing her to tilt her head nearly all the way back if she wanted to look him in the eye. “You can thank me later,” he said with a wink.

  “Or not at all!” Dianna exclaimed. Kicking an errant pebble into the street with the toe of her delicate - and wholly impractical - walking slipper she huffed out a breath and turned away from him, gazing instead at the tidy line of shops across the way, each one closed up tight for the night. “As if your mother needs another reason to dislike me,” she muttered woefully.

  “What does it matter if my mother does not like you?”

  As if he didn’t know. “Because in one year I will be her daughter-in-law, and she will be as much my mother as she is yours.”

  There was a hint of derision in Miles’ voice as he said, “And her opinion matters that much to you?”

  “Of course it does.” Dianna frowned, not liking the way Miles was acting. He’d been behaving differently as of late. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly how or when he had started to change, but the shift in his demeanor was unmistakable. He was… harder, she decided as she glanced back at him over her shoulder. At least around the edges. Harder and considerably more moody, although she supposed that could be attributed to growing older.

  “Well it shouldn’t. You care too much about what others think of you. You need to grow up,” he said, proving her suspicions to be true. The boy Miles had been would have never spoken so thoughtlessly, while the man he was becoming seemed to be making a habit out of it.

  Not wanting to incite an argument Dianna bit her tongue, consoling herself with the fact that Miles’ poor mood likely had little to do with her. After all, this was the first time they’d seen each other in over a week and before tonight their visits had been painfully brief as their parents shuffled them from social event to social event with nary a break in between.

  A slight chill permeated the air, complete with the faintest of breezes that brought with it the scent of chimney smoke. Wandering to the end of the pavement where brick gave way to cobblestone, Dianna balanced on the edge as she carefully drew the hood of her cloak up and over her head, mindful of the elaborate chignon that had taken her maid over two hours to fashion.

  “The play was boring,” Miles said at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

  “I thought it was quite exciting.”

  “The swords were fake,” he scoffed.

  Expertly transferring her weight from her toes to her heels, Dianna pivoted to face him, arms extending out to the side in order to maintain her balance. “Don’t you have an imagination?”

  “Only children have imaginations.”

  Dianna knew he’d meant it as an insult, but she chose to take it as a compliment. Lifting her chin, she stared boldly at him, blue eyes unblinking. “If that is true than I wish to remain a child for the rest of my life.”

  “Do you?” He pushed away from the lamppost and advanced stealthily, moving with a panther’s steely grace. “There are many things children cannot do.”

  “Like what?” she asked with a frown.

  “Like kiss their betrothed on the mouth,” he replied huskily.

  Seeing the dark determination in Miles’ gaze as he came ever closer Dianna’s eyes widened in alarm and her balance wavered. “Oh,” she gasped as she started to fall towards the street, arms wind milling in a desperate attempt to save herself from crashing headfirst into the cobblestones.

  Just as she felt her ankle twist beneath her, Miles grabbed her by the waist and spun her away from the edge. She came up hard against his chest, fingers clutching at the lapels of his tailored waistcoat. “T-thank you for s-saving me,” she stuttered breathlessly.

  The hands at her hips tightened. “You should be more careful.”

  “I s-shall attempt to be in the f-future.” Finding her throat too dry to speak coherently, Dianna was forced to clear it twice before she managed to say, “You can let me go now. I - I am quite all right.”

  But instead of releasing her, Miles
drew her closer until she felt the full hard length of his body. Startled she looked up to see the mocking glint had faded from his eyes, replaced with a burning intensity she would not come to recognize until quite a few years later: complete and unadulterated passion.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said softly, releasing her hip so he could gently grasp her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilt back her face.

  Dianna blushed. “No,” she protested. “I am far too pudgy and my skin is too pale and-”

  “Shhh,” he whispered. “Do not talk about my betrothed that way.”

  And then he bent his head… and kissed her.

  It was the sort of kiss Dianna had always dreamed about.

  Soft. Patient. Kind.

  His mouth molded perfectly over hers, rubbing gently from side to side. One of them moaned. Dianna thought it was her, but overwhelmed with sensation and her first true taste of desire she couldn’t be certain. Miles cradled her face as though it were made of porcelain, tracing the contours of her cheekbones as he deepened the kiss and slid his tongue slowly between her lips.

  Not anticipating the intrusion she froze, but with a few whispered words of encouragement and a gentle sweep of his hand down the middle of her back he enabled her to relax.

  “Sunshine,” he murmured as he drew her bottom lip between her teeth and suckled. “You taste like sunshine on a cold winter’s day.”

  Despite the raw bite of autumn in the air Dianna felt a fire building inside of her, the flames burning hotter as the kiss lingered longer than she ever imagined possible. She met his tongue with her own, hesitantly at first, a bit clumsily, but he welcomed her inside his mouth with a low groan of need that made her toes curl in secret delight.

  At long last - but still too soon for Dianna’s liking - Miles pulled away, fingers trailing all the way from her shoulders down to her wrists before he let her go with obvious reluctance. “I should not have done that,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “I am glad you did,” Dianna said shyly. “I - I liked it.”

  A rueful grin tugged at one corner of Miles’ mouth. “I did as well.” Looking down at the ground he shook his head, as though confounded by something he did not quite understand. Glancing back up, green eyes somber and serious, he reached for her hand. “Dianna, there is something I need to-”

  “There you two are. We have been looking everywhere.” Lady Radnor’s shrill voice cut through the air like the sharpest of knives, popping the happy bubble that Dianna had been floating in from the first moment Miles’ mouth touched hers. Lord Radnor lumbered behind his wife, an older version of his son with silver streaks at his temple and a perpetually weary look about him. When he saw Dianna, however, he winked and she offered a small smile in return, grateful for the kindness.

  “Are you feeling better?” Lady Radnor demanded. Before Dianna could so much as open her mouth to answer, however, she turned to Miles. All around them people began to exit the theater in droves, forcing Lady Radnor to raise her voice to a dull shriek to be heard above the din. “Is she feeling better? Has the fever broken? Because if it hasn’t we will need to hire a hackney to take her home.”

  “Dianna is fine,” Miles replied. “There never was a fever.”

  Lady Radnor’s eyes narrowed. “Never a fever? Then why-”

  “You heard the boy. She’s fine.” To Dianna’s great relief, Lord Radnor took his wife by the arm and steered her briskly in the direction of their waiting carriage.

  She and Miles followed several steps behind. Waiting until they’d nearly reached the carriage, Dianna tugged on Miles’ coat sleeve. “You were going to tell me something,” she said when he stopped and glanced back at her questioningly. “Before your parents came out.”

  He cupped the back of his neck, fingers digging into the taut muscle. “It was nothing important,” he said, even though the flicker of emotion in his eyes said otherwise. “Forget it.”

  Unfortunately for Dianna, she did.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She should have known then that something was amiss, Dianna thought as she reflected on the past. Should have suspected not all was as it appeared with Miles. It had been there in the tone of his voice. In the expression on his face. But she’d chosen to pretend not to see, as if it were a bit of dirt that could be swept beneath the rug and once swept completely forgotten.

  She would not make the same mistake again.

  Waiting until the play was over, Dianna took Readington by the hand and led him to a quiet corner of the theater lobby while her mother chatted with two women who had been sitting three rows down from them. Richly adorned with velvet furnishings and ornate chandeliers, the lobby was a popular place for theater goers to gather after the production and during intermissions. One where they could share their opinion of the play, but more importantly share their opinion on who had attended and what they’d been wearing.

  “I wanted to speak with you alone,” Dianna began, only to hesitate as she struggled to think of the right words to say. She did not want to hurt Readington’s feelings, but she also did not want him to believe there could be anything between them past this night. It would not be fair to either one of them. She needed to be straightforward without being too blunt. Honest without being too forthcoming. For someone as accustomed to pleasing other people as Dianna it would surely be a challenge, but she felt herself up to the task.

  “It was an enjoyable play, was it not?” Readington said, seemingly taking her long pause as an invitation to speak. Dianna nodded.

  “Yes,” she agreed, although in truth she couldn’t recall a single line spoken. “It certainly was. Thank you once again for accompanying my mother and I tonight.”

  “My pleasure.” He executed a flawless bow before straightening and, expression painfully earnest, took both of her hands in his. “Dianna, I must admit I have never thought much of taking a wife...”

  Oh dear.

  “...but I find the idea has great merit now that you and I are becoming better acquainted.” Readington took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I’d like very much if we could continue our courtship with a carriage ride through Hyde Park tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That sounds lovely!” Sailing in this conversation much as she had done the first, Martha stepped smoothly between them, a brilliant smile plastered on her face. “Doesn’t it, darling?”

  “I…” Dianna’s gaze darted around lobby. There were still a handful of people inside, standing in small conversational clusters of twos and threes as they awaited their carriages. Catching more than one curious onlooker peering in her direction, she set her shoulders and deliberately looked away, doing her best to ignore the unpleasant fluttering in her stomach.

  She knew she should not care what others thought of her, nor what they whispered about her behind gloved hands. Unfortunately ‘should not’ didn’t always equal ‘could not’. For four years she’d gone out of her way to avoid public outings such as this one for fear of being the subject of too many a pitying stare. One would think such an expanse of time would be long enough to dissociate herself from the scandal in her past, but it seemed the ton had a very good memory and the more she was seen out in public the sharper it became.

  “I do not believe we should discuss this here,” she said tersely, not wanting to add more fuel to the gossipmonger’s fire.

  “What is there to discuss?” Martha asked airily. “After your carriage ride tomorrow we shall have dinner. Mr. Foxcroft would very much like to meet you,” she told Readington. “Do you enjoy hunting?”

  “I do.” Readington glanced at Dianna, a silent question lingering in the depths of his brown eyes as though he could sense the tension radiating through her but not the cause.

  She gave a tiny shake of her head and a small smile, indicating nothing was the matter even as she resigned herself to another outing with a man she found agreeable but had absolutely no interest in marrying.

  Except… except she didn’t want to have
to resign herself to anything.

  Not now.

  Not ever again.

  Waiting until they had all piled inside Readington’s practical - albeit slightly cramped - carriage, she interrupted her mother mid-sentence with the knowledge that if she did not speak her mind before they reached home she would find herself in precisely this same situation a week from now, then a month, and finally a year.

  Biting her tongue. Disguising what she truly felt behind a pretty smile. Agreeing with her mother not because she wanted to, but because it was what was expected of her.

  Young ladies do what their mothers tell them to do, a tiny voice reminded her sternly.

  Not, Dianna thought with steely determination, anymore.

  “I am sorry,” she said, cutting off Martha’s favorite re-telling of a story about her husband and a wayward fishing expedition, “but I have something to say.”

  “Dianna, I was right in the middle-”

  “I know, and I apologize.” She looked across the carriage and met Readington’s gaze. He looked a bit confused, although she was quickly coming to find it was more of a perpetual expression than a true reflection of emotion. “Mr. Readington - Thomas - I would like to finish our conversation we were having in the theater before my mother so rudely interrupted us.”

  “Dianna!” Martha gasped.

  “What?” Turning her head, she gazed calmly at her mother. The interior of the carriage was dimly lit with a single lantern, but it was enough to see the angry flush stealing up and over Martha’s cheeks. “You did. You always do.”

  “Mr. Readington I am so very sorry,” Martha began, adopting a smile that fell far short of her eyes. She spoke to him as though Dianna had ceased to exist; a tactic that had been used on Dianna throughout her entire life. One moment she was part of the conversation and the next she was invisible, spoken about rather than to. “I do not know what has come over my daughter. She has not quite been herself as of late.”