Paying the Virgin's Price (Regency Silk & Scandal #2)(21)

She seemed just as surprised as he had been to have the conversation turned back to her. 'There is not much to tell that you have not already heard. I have been tending to the needs of others since I was seventeen. I believe we discussed it, when last we met.'

'And before that?' he asked gently.

She paused, and he wondered if it might stir some rancour or sadness in her. But her pace stayed as placid as it had been. 'I had an unremarkable childhood. My mother died when I was seven. There were no other children.' She gave a small frown. 'My father was very loving, but not particularly wise. He lost his fortune and our home, and I was forced to seek employment.' She glanced at him, quickly. 'That is not to say I did not love him very much. Or that he was not good to me, except in that one thing.'

'Of course.' He rushed to say it. 'But sometimes, when a man is a gambler, he does not realize what he has done until after.'

She looked up sharply. 'I did not say he was a gambler.'

'You did not?' Of course she hadn't. And how was he to explain that bit of knowledge? 'I am so sorry if I assumed incorrectly. But that is frequently the cause of sudden reversals of fortune amongst gentlemen.'

She sighed. 'You guessed correctly, Mr Dale. But the problem was long ago, and hardly concerns me, truly. It has not been a bad life, not really. After the night he lost the house...my father ceased gambling.'

There was an odd pause in the middle of the sentence that made Nate wonder how much she knew about what had truly happened.

'After he saw me safely employed, he went North for a time. But he visited me frequently. Our lives were harder than they had been, of course.' She smiled at him, the lines on her face smoothing to tranquillity. 'But better. Everything was so much better, once he put down the cards for the last time.'

Did she know the reason for her father's sudden abstinence? If she did not know the full truth, then perhaps she felt Nathan Wardale had done her a service by ruining her father. But he knew exactly what had happened, and would never feel right on the matter. 'So it ended well, then. That is good to know.'

She turned her head and smiled fondly back at Verity and Honoria. 'I have been quite happy with the Carlows. And I shall be most glad to see them make matches. Their brother, Lord Stanegate, has recently found a wife. Perhaps it will inspire them.'

He smiled. 'Marc is the first of us to marry, then. But he is at that time in life when a man must consider his future.'

'You knew him as a child, you said?'

'Yes. He was a bit younger than me. Still is, younger of course.'

'And already married.'

And it was obvious the direction the conversation had taken. Without meaning to, he was half way to offering for the girl. Which could have been a fine thing, since she was delightful. She would have been perfect for him, if she had been any other woman in the world. And if perhaps, he was a different man.

He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to mop at the sweat he could feel springing out on his forehead, and heard a small thump as something fell from his coat and onto the ground at their feet.

And there, before them, was the little volume of poetry from Diana Price's bedroom, her ribbon still marking the place. Without thinking, he must have put it in his pocket on leaving the room.

Being the helpful sort of person that she was, Diana looked down at the thing, then stooped to pick it up. 'You seem to have dropped something, Mr Dale.' And then, she saw the title. 'Shakespeare?' she exclaimed. 'Is he a favourite of yours?'

'Yes. I like him very much.'

'I do as well. I used to have my own copy of the sonnets, and read it many times. But it has been so long.'

Of course she had. And here was her own hair ribbon in the same place she had left it, waiting to be recognized. He held his breath, expecting the moment of revelation. But it passed. For she opened the book, paging through it and removing the ribbon, tucking it to the back. It was a plain thing of blue satin, much like many others, he assumed. She was examining the book as though the marker held no special meaning. 'This is even the same edition I remember.'

'You must take it then.'

'That is not necessary,' she rushed to assure him. 'If I wished, the library...'

'It is hardly anything.' To give back something that had given her pleasure? That was less than nothing, for it only brought them closer to being even. But when he searched his heart, he knew that it was right, for it made him feel better to do it, even knowing that she might recognize the thing. 'Please. I insist. It is not new. But I would be honoured to part with it, if you enjoy it.' He reached out without thinking, and clasped Diana's hands to press the book into them. They were well shaped, tiny in his, smooth and warm in their kid leather gloves. He looked into her eyes which were shining bright with happiness.

And her gaze dropped demurely to the open book in front of her and the place where their hands were joined. 'The age of the book is not important. The words in it are just as true as they ever were. Thank you.'

So much joy from something so small. And the smile on her face made him feel like a Galahad. As long as the moment was taken out of context. Because otherwise... He looked up, desperate for a distraction. 'Ahh. I see the ladies are returning from their visit.' And not a moment too soon. He stepped hurriedly away from Diana and raised a hand to hail them.