Too Wilde to Wed (The Wildes of Lindow Castle, #2)(70)

“You didn’t think? Shocking.”

She scowled at him.

“How much did you pay for it?”

Diana bit her lip, suspecting she might have paid too much. The peacock had cost more than the silvery fabric—but how could she say no? With Artie looking up at her, confident she would rescue Mrs. Fitzy, and Godfrey likely thinking the same thing?

“You paid too much,” North concluded when she didn’t answer. “I’m sorry to tell you that Mrs. Fitzy is no mate for Fitzy.”

Her mouth fell open. “What?”

“The bird you describe doesn’t sound like a peahen. More likely, he’s a male in his prime, with or without all his tail feathers.”

“Are you absolutely certain? How do you know?”

“Peahens don’t have tails—or rather, nothing at all like the males’. Did you know that peacocks are quite territorial?”

“Are you saying Fitzy will be insulted by the arrival of a new bird?”

“We males tend to be like that.”

“Hell’s bells,” she breathed.

“Indeed.”

Diana’s stomach tightened into the size of a walnut. She felt like an idiot. What if the duke was angry to learn that beloved Fitzy had a rival?

“It will be good for the old bird,” North said, dropping a kiss on her dusty nose. “The scoundrel needs something to give him a new lease on life.”

In an uncharacteristic show of timeliness, Mabel happened into the nursery at that moment. North pointed to Diana’s bandaged hand and announced that Mabel was in charge of the children until the following morning, and then he left.

Diana ignored Mabel’s smirk. She refused to ask Mabel to help her disrobe. Or to help her bathe. She had never liked having a lady’s maid, and had happily left hers behind when she’d fled the castle last time.

A duchess, she reminded herself, almost certainly had two maids. Duchesses were summoned to the court on a regular basis.

It turned out that she did have a maid. When she slipped through the door to her bedchamber, North was seated before the fireplace, reading one of her books. “The History of the Peloponnesian War?” he asked, holding it up.

“I’m trying to educate myself,” Diana said. “I don’t know anything about peafowl. Or Shakespeare.” She hesitated. “Or war.”

He stood up, putting the book to the side, came over, and began briskly unbuttoning her gown. “Isn’t it a good thing that we’ve already been intimate, so you needn’t feel shy?”

Diana felt shy anyway. It was one thing to make love in the middle of the night, and another to undress with afternoon sunlight slanting in the window.

“Are you happy Lavinia has arrived?”

“Of course I am.”

“How many bloody buttons are on this dress?”

Diana glanced down just in time to see his hands settle on her neckline and tear the tired fabric right down the front. She barely managed to suppress a scream that Mabel might have heard. “What are you doing?” She was so exhausted that tears came to her eyes. “This is like my shoes. You don’t understand.”

North pushed off the pieces of worn cloth, made quick work of her corset, and sat down in the chair with her in his arms, wearing only a chemise. “I hate that dress.”

“It’s mine,” Diana said shakily. “I had three, and now I only have two.”

“You’ve forgotten that Lavinia is in the castle now,” he pointed out. “Your cousin will faint if she sees you in that rag again.”

Despite herself, tears started down her face. “I made do,” she said, sobs shaking her voice. “I worked hard. Now everything is changing, and Godfrey and I will have to live with Lady Gray.”

North tucked her closer to his chest, pushed a handkerchief into her hand, and thought about his plan to buy a house for her, with room for servants, in any part of the country she wished. She didn’t have to love him, or marry him, but she couldn’t stop him from taking care of her.

“It’s not that I dislike Lady Gray. I just don’t want to do it again,” Diana said, hiccupping. “Dress and undress all day long, with endless dinners in the evenings, playing cards, which I hate.” Her voice trailed off in a sob.

North put his chin on her dusty hair and rocked her back and forth. Every word she said struck arrows into his heart, but they reinforced his decision. He had to let her go. He couldn’t tie her to a fence until she lost all her feathers trying to escape.

“You needn’t live with Lady Gray,” he said, when her sobs quieted.

“I ca-can’t marry you, North.”

“I know,” he said, the words leaden in his voice and heart. “I know you can’t. I understand.”

“Almost certainly your father will live to be ancient, but North, you know that people don’t always live as long as they should. And I know it.”

His arms tightened. “True.”

“I wish I could,” Diana whispered. “I mean, I could, but I would be such a terrible duchess and you’d come to hate me. My mother did.” She stopped.

“Hated you?” North had to remind himself that Mrs. Belgrave was not an enemy combatant. He couldn’t take revenge.

“I never did anything right,” she said, burying her face in his chest. “The only way she could find me a husband was if I promised not to say a word.”