Too Wilde to Wed (The Wildes of Lindow Castle, #2)(58)

“I don’t think he’s unhinged, but even so, what has that to do with me?”

“You were the one who told Chef to make those English dishes, weren’t you? Prism said that’s all he ate last night, the things you ordered. He’ll likely starve if you don’t marry him.”

She raised her fourth finger. “No real lady is going to want him after the scandal. They all think he turned up your apron and then left you in the nursery.”

“Turned up my apron,” Diana said, rather faintly. “He didn’t.”

Mabel shrugged, her thumb up. “He watches you all the time. We reckon that if you put on a pretty dress, he might forget that you’ve been downstairs and kiss you or something, and then he’d have to marry you.”

A memory of the “something” North had done to her hours before drifted through Diana’s mind.

“Mr. Calico is in the village today,” Mabel finished. “If you buy some fabric, we will help you sew a dress, Mrs. Mousekin too, and you know she’s got a way with a needle.”

Diana couldn’t help it; her eyes grew teary. She had thought that North was her only friend, but perhaps she just didn’t know what friends looked like. Maybe they came in the shape of somewhat lazy, sharp-tongued nursemaids, dignified butlers, and kindly housekeepers.

“I take your five points, but Lord Roland and I would not be a good match. I will never be a duchess,” she said, her voice wavering a bit, “but I’m grateful for your advice and help.”

“You did jilt him,” Mabel conceded. “It might sour the marriage. Still, I think a new gown will do it.” In an odd echo of Mrs. Belgrave, she added, “If you look like a duchess, he won’t be able to hold back. Now, since you’re awake, perhaps you wouldn’t mind finishing the dusting, because I should deliver an important message.”

“To the dairy?” Diana gave her a hug. “Thank you.”

After luncheon, Artie put on her peacock-feather headband and ran around the schoolroom in imitation of Fitzy.

Mabel had returned from the dairy looking glum; now she rolled her eyes. “I’ve a headache like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I could take the children to the village, so you could take a nap,” Diana told her.

“Don’t forget to buy cloth that looks as if it will rot by next Christmas.”

“Why?”

“You need a dress that will tear in a strong breeze,” Mabel said authoritatively. “Did Lord Roland really throw your shoes in the lake?”

Diana nodded.

“There you are,” Mabel said, satisfied. “I didn’t believe it of a grown man, but it’s just like any lad of seven who falls in love. I’ll nip down and say hello to Jack while you’re in the village. That will cure my headache.”

“Lord Roland and I would not be a good match,” Diana said.

“I want to go see the peddler!” Artie was hopping on one leg, holding Godfrey’s shoulder. “I shall buy a peacock for Fitzy.”

“No room for a peacock in Mr. Calico’s cart,” Mabel told her.

“We’ll find something wonderful,” Diana promised as she wrestled Godfrey into his nankeen coat.

“No buying the children treats from your own money,” Mabel reminded her. “Mr. Prism said he wanted an accounting after what happened when the fair came through the village.” She looked down at Artie. “You were too small to care last year, but Mr. Calico carries wooden dolls in his wagon.”

This time Artie’s shriek truly rivaled Fitzy’s. Mabel winced. “Tea,” she moaned. She moved in the direction of the door.

“Shall we go?” Diana asked, holding out her hands.

Artie’s and Godfrey’s eyes were shining with excitement. But: “Fitzy first,” Artie demanded.

“Do you have your bread crumbs?” Diana asked.

“Yes!” Artie held up a little cotton bag.

Diana usually took the children through the library out to the south terrace, where Fitzy roamed the lawn. But it struck her that they might encounter North.

Last night, he’d again asked her to marry him, and she’d refused.

Though that wasn’t what was making her feel shy this morning. She had been completely exposed to him in all ways, body and soul. He had wrapped her up in warmth and safety. She had never felt like that before.

Loved was one way to describe it. He’d said he loved her, and she’d felt it in his every touch and kiss.

The idea made her feel dizzy.

“Let’s go out the side door today,” she said when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “After greeting Frederick and Peter, of course.”

“Morning,” Artie shouted. She was much given to shouting. “No curtsy,” she reminded herself.

“That’s right,” Frederick said, grinning down at her. “You don’t curtsy to me. Now if I was ‘Lord Frederick,’ what would you do?”

“Curtsy!” Artie cried.

Godfrey didn’t say anything, but he waved.

“No bow,” Artie told him. She turned back to Frederick. “We’re going to see Fitzy, an’ then the doll man.” She started hopping up and down, causing her feather headband to slip over one eye and then fall off. She looked so funny with her fluffy yellow curls and startled eyes that all three boys started laughing.