Paying the Virgin's Price (Regency Silk & Scandal #2)(18)

'What utter nonsense, Honoria. You really are being most unfair to me. If you are not careful, I shall remember this behaviour. And when you receive a letter, I shall return the torment.' She tried not to appear as excited as she was, but she rarely received mail. It was even more rare to receive it unexpectedly, and she had no idea what this might be. She ran a finger along the edge of the folded paper to pop the sealing wax.

Bank notes fluttered to the table in front of her. It was as startling as if she had opened the letter to a flight of moths. She leaned back in her chair, as though afraid to let the things touch her dress.

'Ohhh my.' Verity had no such fear and came to her side to scoop the notes off the floor and into an organized pile on the table, counting as she went. 'There is all of thirty-four pounds here. Who sent it?'

Diana's mind was too numb to scold her charge for the impudence of the question. In truth, she was curious to know the answer. She picked up the letter, searching both sides for information. 'I do not know. There is my address, right enough. But there is no return.' She turned the paper. 'And no message, either.'

'Why would anyone send such an odd number?' Honoria asked. Was there a debt that needed paying?'

Diana stared at the money on the desk. 'None owed to me.' There might have been, to her father. But it was far more likely a debt was owed by her, than to her. And why would the money have come to her now, so many years after it might have helped?

'Well it is nowhere near your birthday. Or Christmas, for that matter,' Verity said.

Honoria riffled through the stack. 'And it does not look as if the person went to the bank for the money. The bills are all odd. Creased. Old.'

'But legal tender, all the same,' she told them. The Carlow girls were used to their money, clean and neatly folded, going straight from their brother's hand into their reticules. They had never been forced to search their father's pockets after a night of gambling, hoping that there would be a little left to pay the grocer.

The memory shocked Diana, for it had been so long, she'd thought it forgotten. But at the sight of the somewhat ragged bills before her, the past came flooding back and brought bitterness with it. Pound notes hurriedly gathered and stuffed into a pocket or purse. Not stacked neatly, but front to back, and upside down. This was enough to be very near a year's salary to a paid companion. But someone had thrust it into an envelope as though it were nothing, and addressed it to her. She stared at the writing on the letter, trying to divine masculine from feminine. The letters were roughly formed, as though the writer had wished to conceal his or her identity.

'Well, whoever it was seemed to think it most important that you receive this,' Verity said. 'You are sure that you have no idea?'

'None.'

'No belated gifts from estranged godparents?'

'I have none, estranged or otherwise.'

'No family that has gone to the continent or the colonies to make their fortune?' suggested Honoria with a smile.

Diana held it up to her. 'It is a London postmark, Honoria. There is nothing exotic about it.'

'No pending bequests from rich uncles?'

Diana laughed. 'Of course not. You know I have no family. And even if I did, they would not be so secretive.'

Verity smiled in triumph. 'Then it must be from an admirer. Someone is pained to see you forced into the shadows, toiling to maintain our good name. That someone wishes you a chance to better yourself. And I know just such a one. It is from Mr Dale.'

'Verity!' Diana was sure that her cheeks could not get any more pink at the thought of the man, for she could feel them burning already. 'It can be no such thing, and I forbid you to say that again. Mr Dale would have no reason to send me a large sum of money, on a whim. And even if he did, the gesture would not be kindly in the least. It would...' She struggled to think of a way to explain, one that did not confirm her worst fears about the man. 'It would be most improper. Only one sort of gentleman would offer money to a female. And only one sort of female would accept it.'

'Do you think that he means to make you his mistress?' Honoria's eyes grew wide with curiosity.

'Honoria! It is most unladylike of you to entertain that idea. But if a gentleman well outside of his dotage gave me a substantial amount like this, I would not think that it was out of concern for my future or well-being. I would return it immediately, for I would assume that he expected something in exchange for it that I did not wish to give him.'

Honoria stared at the pile of bills on the table. 'Then he would be the most cold-blooded and foolish paramour imaginable. Surely he must know that jewellery would be a better temptation, when persuading a woman to part with her honour. And to not enclose an address?' She waved her hand over the money. 'It is very difficult to demand thanks for the gift if one does not identify oneself when sending. Is he likely to make an appearance, regretfully inform you that he forgot to enclose his card when offering a carte blanche, and then expect you to fall at his feet? I seriously doubt it, Diana. More likely, he was moved by your situation and feared you were in need of help. But the natural shyness and reservation he displayed towards you, when talking with us, left him awkward and unsure of how best to aid you. So he posted you the contents of his purse. But he feared that you would take it just as you have suggested, and throw the money back in his face. So he gave no return address to prevent you.'