To Love and to Loathe (The Regency Vows #2)(37)

Namely, on how not to behave when beginning a liaison with a gentleman.

Emily, seeming to sense her distress, said gently, “Diana, is everything all right?”

Diana gave a helpless shrug. “I had a plan,” she burst out—seeing as Emily already knew about the arrangement, she supposed it was past time to fill Violet in as well. She could not explain her hesitance to discuss the matter—she, who lived for gossip, who delighted in regaling her friends with the tale of the latest gentleman to flirt with her (or, sometimes, proposition her) of an evening. But despite their agreement that this was anything but personal, she found those moments with Willingham, when his body was pressed against hers, when his mouth moved urgently over her own, to be somehow precious, as though something important was being said without any words being uttered.

It made no sense at all, but that knowledge didn’t prevent her from feeling it, anyway.

At the moment, however, the desire to unburden herself was more powerful than anything else.

“Willingham approached me with a… proposal, of sorts.” Seeing the delighted expression on Violet’s face, she added hastily, “Not that sort of a proposal. Calm down.”

Violet sagged.

“He has recently ended his arrangement with his most recent mistress.” Emily, of course, was blushing furiously at just the mention of such a relationship; Violet, however, was nodding in a get on with it fashion that was not terribly helpful, but was terribly Violet.

Diana hesitated, just as she had done when explaining the situation to Emily, unwilling to betray Willingham’s confidence; they might not precisely get along, but there was an odd sort of code of honor between them nonetheless.

Much like Emily, however, Violet did not seem to find any explanation necessary.

“Let me guess,” Violet said after Diana had remained silent for a moment too long. “He offered the position to you?”

“I don’t know that I would phrase it quite like that,” Diana said with as much dignity as she could muster. “That makes it sound terribly mercenary. It’s not as though I’m a kept woman, or anything so sordid.”

“But you are lovers?” Violet pressed, focused as ever on the important bit.

“Well, not quite,” Diana said with uncharacteristic primness. “But we are on that path, yes.”

Emily, always innocent, frowned. “What does that mean?”

Violet turned to her. “It means they’ve been engaging in lewd activities in varying states of undress, but have yet to complete the act.”

Diana choked. “Violet!” She fully expected Emily, of all people, to blush at this, but instead she looked intrigued.

“Just how many acts are there that involve the removal of clothing that are not the act?” she asked. Diana wouldn’t have been surprised to see her whip out a pen and begin taking notes.

“Emily, I would be happy to educate you on this further at a later date, but I do think we have more pressing matters to discuss,” Violet said.

Emily slumped slightly in her seat. “I suppose you’re right.”

Diana looked at her with suspicion. “Why are you so interested? Did that cozy tête-à-tête with Belfry make these activities sound rather appealing?”

Emily did flush at this. “I am merely seeking to become… more well-informed.”

“I’d wager Belfry would be more than willing to help you in that endeavor,” Diana said sweetly.

“So,” Violet said, seeming to think this interlude had gone on quite long enough, “let me be certain I understand this. You and Jeremy are…” She waved her hand, searching for the appropriate euphemism. “… becoming intimately acquainted, shall we say?” She waggled her eyebrows in an exaggeratedly lascivious fashion, and Diana reflected, rather grumpily, that Violet was somewhat insufferable when she was happy. “But you have no desire to marry him, which the dowager marchioness seems to be angling for. So your solution is to—even as you engage in said intimate activities—try to get him married to someone else?”

“I’m not trying to actually get him married,” Diana said, exasperated. “Or at least not to Lady Helen.”

“I would certainly hope not,” Violet said. “You’re skilled, Diana, but no one’s that skilled.

“I still have eleven months to see him wed, according to the terms of our wager,” Diana said. “There’s no need to rush the matter.”

But, even as she spoke, the wheels in Diana’s mind began to turn. Surely, surely Lady Helen could not be as dreadful as she seemed. No one was that dreadful. Perhaps she merely needed some assistance in wooing a gentleman as marriage-shy as Willingham.

The fact of the matter was, Diana despised losing—to anyone at all, but particularly to Willingham, with his smirking and his eyebrow-raising and his mere existence. And for that reason, she was determined to see him wed in the next eleven months, no matter what it took. And how much easier it would be to ensure such an outcome if the lady she chose to play this role was the one she had already so conveniently redirected his grandmother’s attention to? Willingham was a strong-willed man, but surely even he would crumble beneath the combined will of Diana and the dowager marchioness.

“What are you thinking?” asked Violet, who had been watching Diana’s face shrewdly as her mind had raced.