To Love and to Loathe (The Regency Vows #2)(77)
Lady Helen’s lips pursed. “Yes. I find the rigors of a country house party rather more than my delicate constitution can handle. I can’t expect you to understand, of course—you are just so much more…” She paused, as though searching for the right word, though Diana had no doubt that she already knew exactly what she was going to say. “… robust.”
Well played, Diana thought. Never had she felt quite so much like a horse. She pasted a sweet smile upon her face. “I am not unsympathetic to your weariness, my lady. Who, after all, can be expected to breakfast, take a turn about the gardens, and perhaps play a game of whist without retiring to one’s bed? It is entirely understandable.”
Lady Helen’s eyes narrowed, but Diana continued speaking. “However, the piece of Toogood’s report that I found so interesting was the fact that your maid apparently remains with you for the entire duration of your rest.”
“Yes,” Lady Helen said calmly, “it is helpful to have her at hand should I need anything.”
“Mmm, yes,” Diana murmured sweetly, trailing off as though contemplating Lady Helen’s reply. “It is fortunate that you have found a maid so… devoted to you.” She placed just the right amount of emphasis on the word—enough to make Lady Helen notice, but not enough to rob Diana of the ability to deny that she had done any such thing.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Lady Helen said calmly—and that was her critical mistake. She should have agreed with Diana, of course—murmured some nonsense about the pleasures of finding a truly loyal servant, complained about the difficulty of finding reliable help, anything, really. But to claim ignorance entirely—no. It was completely the wrong answer—and it made Diana feel even more convinced that her wild theory might just be true.
She decided there was nothing for it but to pretend to more knowledge than she actually possessed. Fortunately, feigning confidence had never been difficult for her.
“I think you do,” she said sweetly. “I think you insist your maid remains with you because you are not actually resting at all.” Here, she paused. How to phrase it, exactly? How did one imply an affair—imply that one’s maid had been bribed to serve as lookout to ensure that no one interrupted unexpectedly while one cavorted with a gentleman?
“I believe that you are having an affair,” Diana said at last, deciding to abandon subtlety entirely and instead brazen the thing out with a bit more confidence than she actually felt.
This bet paid off immediately, as Lady Helen looked around them frantically, her eyes wild.
“Keep your voice down! Do you want the entire household to hear?”
“Of course n—” Diana began to say, but Lady Helen continued speaking, growing increasingly fervent the longer she spoke.
“I would be ruined—utterly, truly ruined. And whilst I’ve obviously no desire to marry, I shouldn’t wish to cause my mother pain, or to blacken my brother’s name.”
Diana opened her mouth to reply, then paused. No desire to marry? But surely Lady Helen wished to marry whoever the gentleman was that she was carrying on with—why else would she be willing to sacrifice her virtue, if not in pursuit of some plump matrimonial prize?
“If my mother were to find out, she would cast Sutton out without a reference, and she’d never be able to find another post again. The thought of her suffering, all because I could not help myself…” Her bottom lip trembled, and Diana was momentarily struck dumb. She would never have guessed that Lady Helen possessed the compassion necessary to feel so deeply for a member of the hired help, to feel so personally responsible for the woman’s fate. It spoke well of her character, and Diana opened her mouth to magnanimously tell her so, when she was once again forestalled.
“And of course, I am the one who led Sutton down this path in the first place—she might have continued on, ignorant of her own preferences, had I not met her.” Diana frowned, confused—preferences? “But I took one look at her, and I just could not resist”—Diana began to receive the impression that she had badly misunderstood the situation at hand—“and of course, it was even worse once I came to truly know her, and our attachment was no longer merely physical. Once I realized what a remarkable woman she is… well, there was simply no way I could give her up.”
“I beg your pardon,” Diana said at last as Lady Helen paused for breath, gazing at her with imploring eyes. Diana felt considerably at sea, and more naive than she had felt in years. It would have been galling, had it not been so entirely shocking. “Are you implying that your lover is… your maid?”
Lady Helen blinked. “Are you implying that you didn’t already know?” She blinked again. “Did I just confess for no reason at all? Oh, this is utterly maddening—I should have just behaved like a villain in a novel and murdered you and hidden the body beneath the church flagstones.”
Diana interrupted this bit of criminal fantasy before Lady Helen could get too carried away. “I supposed that some sort of bedroom activities were underway,” she assured—assured?!—Lady Helen. “I, however, must have too conventional a mind. I assumed that you had a gentleman lover, and that your maid—Sutton, is it?—was standing guard to ensure that you were not interrupted at a delicate moment.”
Lady Helen snorted, the sound the least delicate Diana had yet heard from her. “I should be offended, truly I should. As if I would be so foolhardy as to sacrifice my virtue to one of the—doubtless incompetent—gentlemen at this house party.”