Beauty and the Blacksmith(23)

A hush fell over the room. She could feel everyone staring at her.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I should have been honest and told you I didn’t wish to go.”

“Why would you not wish to go?” her mother cried. “You had the lead in the theatrical. And I know we agreed on Lord Drewe’s unsuitability, but Lord Payne was attending as well. One of them might have invited a highly placed friend.”

“I don’t care about Lord Drewe,” she exclaimed. “Nor his friends. I don’t want the same things you want, Mama. Marrying me off to a duke is your dream, not mine.”

Pursing her mouth in displeasure, Mama flicked open her fan. “I think you are ill. I’m sure I’ve never heard you speak in such a fashion.”

“Well, I suggest you get used to it.” Diana rose and confronted the room of shocked faces. “I am guilty of falsehood. It was wrong of me to lie. Not only wrong but cowardly as well. I am sorry for it. But I swear to you, I did not steal. They won’t find anything in my room.”

Matilda came bursting through the door, closely followed by Mrs. Nichols. “We found something in Miss Highwood’s room.”

“What?” Charlotte cried. “Impossible.”

“Is it my brooch?” asked Miss Price.

“Not the brooch,” Mrs. Nichols said, giving Diana an apologetic look. “But we did find these.”

The old woman unrolled a linen handkerchief to reveal a collection of shiny metallic objects.

Oh, no. They were Aaron’s pieces. The ones she’d kept hidden at the bottom of her trousseau.

Diana went dizzy. She sat down again. “I didn’t steal those. You can ask Sally Bright.”

“Ask me what?” Sally asked, having just popped through the door. She flashed a cheeky smile. “You don’t really think I’d miss a scene like this, do you?”

Wonderful. Now the whole village was assembled to witness Diana’s humiliation. All the ladies of the Queen’s Ruby, Mr. Fosbury and his serving girl, assorted tavern patrons, and now Sally Bright—who would share the tale with the few remaining people in the parish who’d missed it.

“Those pieces Mrs. Nichols is holding. I purchased them from the All Things shop, didn’t I?”

“Oh, yes,” Sally said, peering at the handful of silver. “Last year, I think. You told me they were going to be Christmas gifts.”

“Then why were they buried at the bottom of her trunk?” Matilda asked. “All secret-like.”

“It’s plain to see what’s been going on,” Miss Price said. “The pressure of being the perfect daughter has worn on Miss Highwood, and she’s developed this compulsion to collect shiny things. At first she bought them, but now she’s resorted to stealing. I want to call for a magistrate.”

“But she doesn’t have your brooch,” Charlotte argued.

“Doesn’t she? She probably hid it elsewhere.” Miss Price ticked off the “evidence” on her fingers. “She lied about being ill. She was the only one with a chance to steal it. She disappeared again this morning, and now we find this cache of trinkets.”

“Those are not trinkets,” Diana argued. “They’re art. They’re precious.”

“Precious?” Miss Price turned to Mrs. Nichols and raised her eyebrows in a way that said, See what I mean?

“I’m sure there’s another explanation,” Mrs. Nichols said. “Miss Highwood, if you were at the rooming house last night, did you hear anyone come in or go out?”

“No,” Diana said. “I couldn’t have heard.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wasn’t there.”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the tavern.

Mama snorted. “Of course you were there. Charlotte looked in on you when we returned.”

“Yes, I know. I was awake. I’d just come back in.”

“From where?” Miss Price asked.

Diana buried her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. This was madness. Even if she told the truth, she wasn’t sure anyone would believe her. She was about to publicly ruin herself and lose Aaron forever.

“She was with me.”

Her head and heart lifted at the sound of that familiar baritone.

Aaron.

He stood silhouetted in the door. His hair was damp, plastered to his brow. His boots were caked with mud. He wore the same chocolate-brown coat she’d stitched together minutes after stitching his arm.

And no man had ever looked so handsome.

“She was with me,” he repeated, walking into the tavern. “All night long.”

Diana wanted to cheer. Charlotte actually did cheer, albeit quietly.

“But of course!” Mama exclaimed with evident relief. “This explains everything.”

What? Diana hadn’t been expecting her mother to take this so well.

She looked around the tavern. Everyone seemed to be taking this well.

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Nichols, catching on to the conclusion that was seemingly obvious to all but Diana. “We all know about Mr. Maidstone’s accident yesterday.”

Everyone in the tavern nodded and murmured in agreement.

“Mr. Dawes was called away to set a bone. Miss Diana must have heard the news. She was helping nurse an injured man, just like she helped with Finn’s surgery.”

“That is so like my daughter,” Mama crowed. “Always kind to the less fortunate.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

This was ridiculous. Diana couldn’t ruin herself when she tried.

She caught Aaron’s gaze. She knew they were sharing the same thought. They could let the mistaken assumption stand. Everything could be settled without any scandal at all.

But I don’t want to hide it, she told him with her eyes.

He nodded in agreement. “It’s all right. Tell the truth.”

Her heart beat faster. “You’re wrong, Mother. I went to Mr. Dawes’s cottage after he was finished tending to Mr. Maidstone. I . . . I spent the night there.”

Her mother laughed, incredulous. “Well, whyever would you do that?”

Diana smacked a palm to her forehead. Did she have to draw every conclusion with pen and ink? “We were making love!”

Now the tavern went stone silent.

Mama snorted. “I’m sure I don’t believe that. I’d sooner believe you were a thief.”

“It’s the truth, Mrs. Highwood,” Aaron said. “Whether you believe it or not. And I’m here to ask Miss Highwood to marry me.”

From his breast pocket he removed a ring and laid it on the table. A gold band shaped like two entwined vines, with golden leaves bracketing a ruby-and-diamond bloom.

She pressed a hand to her heart. Oh, it was lovely. His best work yet. How he must have slaved over the design.

“Miss Highwood.” Aaron cleared his throat and moved as though he would kneel. “Diana, I—”

“Stop!” Mama cried.

Aaron froze in an awkward half crouch.

“How can you expect me to allow this?” Mama glared at him. “How dare you impugn my Diana’s honor in this fashion! Grasping, awful man. Of course you’d leap at the opportunity to rescue her from these silly thieving suspicions, hoping she’ll marry you in gratitude. It’s not as though a man like you would have a chance at her otherwise. But I tell you, your scheme won’t work.”

“It’s not a scheme,” Diana said. “And he has more than ‘a chance’ with me, Mama. I love Aaron. And I am going to marry him.”

Diana reached for the ring he’d laid on the table.

Her mother smacked her hand away. Smacked it, as though Diana were a three-year-old child.

Diana simmered with anger. She was not a child. She was all grown up, and her mother was about to learn the truth of it.

“Mama,” she said coolly, “listen to me closely. I am in love with Mr. Dawes. I have been for some time. I collected his pieces from the All Things shop because I admired him. We shared our first kiss in the vicar’s curricle. He introduced me to his sister on our excursion to Hastings. I tried to kill an eel for him. I shot at a robber who threatened him. And last night . . . ?” She lifted her voice. “We. Were. Making. Love. In a bed. All night long. It was hot and sweaty and glorious. I left scratches on his back. He has a freckle just to the right of his navel. And if you don’t believe all that . . .”

She ripped her cloak open and threw it aside, exposing Aaron’s black, sooty handprint on her breast. “Here. See for yourself.”

Several moments passed, during which the only sound was the mad thump of her heartbeat in her ears.

Then someone shrieked.

Strange. Diana had expected a measure of shock at her revelations, but that seemed a bit extreme, shrieking.