Too Wilde to Wed (The Wildes of Lindow Castle, #2)(74)

“No. Though I think I love you,” she added desperately.

A moment of silence was broken only by the singing of a bird building a nest outside.

Something in his eyes was unbearable, so Diana found herself looking at the window instead.

“You don’t love me,” he said, almost kindly.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he moved his head, just a fraction of an inch, and she stopped. “If you loved me, you would brave the role of a duchess. I think, in fact, that your anger at your mother outweighs whatever you feel for me. You refuse to become a duchess because that’s what she wanted you to be. That’s what she schemed for.”

The blood drained from Diana’s face. Could that be true? Her mind reeled, trying to make sense of it. She was angry at her mother, but . . .

He nodded, watching her. “Your mother’s actions toward your sister Rose were monstrous. Anyone would feel strongly.”

He got to his feet and pulled on clothing. He kissed her for the last time.

She still hadn’t said a word when he left.

Diana stared at the closed door. Part of her wanted to run after him, screaming, reckless, willing to agree to anything to keep him.

But another part of her . . .

She could clearly see how unhappy she would be as a duchess, and it didn’t have to do with proving her mother right or wrong. She had survived her Season because her mother literally dictated everything she said. Without that . . . without that she would make mistake after mistake. Buying the wrong peafowl was the least of it.

The real problem wasn’t her impulsive behavior. Perhaps more importantly, she had no wish to direct a huge household that encompassed several estates. She didn’t want to meet the queen.

She wanted to sit in the sunshine and tell stories about an adventuresome peacock. In the summer, she wanted to live in a small cottage on the Isle of Wight, not in a ducal estate in Scotland.

Did it mean that she didn’t love him, the essential North? The idea shook her to the core. But at the same time, that part of her that had bent to her mother’s demands was protesting.

Making itself heard.

North had donned heels and powder for her, but that wasn’t the same as turning over one’s life to the enormous endeavor called a duchy. He himself had told her about the administration, the work, the House of Lords. Never once did he speak of those things with joy or even interest.

This time she couldn’t hold the tears back, because she was selfish. The man she loved—and she did love him—was trapped in a duchy, and she was refusing to join him. Refusing to be his partner.

In the end, she sobbed until there weren’t any more sobs, until she stared dry-eyed into the silent room.





Chapter Seventeen




The next morning Diana got up at dawn with Artie and watched listlessly as the little girl tied ribbons on the tails of Godfrey’s toy horses. Her nephew was still asleep and hadn’t yet learned how his precious playthings were being “decorated” when Mabel emerged from her bedchamber.

Diana handed the children over to Mabel’s care, pleading a headache, and returned to her room. Her head did hurt, and her heart hurt even more.

Lavinia found her there an hour later. With one look, she held out her arms and Diana toppled into them, sobbing so hard she couldn’t speak.

“Hush,” her cousin said, hugging her. “It will pass, I promise you.”

A while later, as she washed her face, Diana asked huskily, “How do you know it will pass, Lavinia? Perhaps I’ll regret refusing North for the rest of my life.”

“I fell in love with the wrong man once,” Lavinia said, her voice thoughtful. “It was a salutary experience. I was sad. But not as wretched as I might have been, had I married him, not that he asked.”

“Oh,” Diana said, sinking into a chair and pressing a damp towel against her burning eyes. “I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Lavinia said. “You are not to tell anyone either. The right man will come along. I promise you that.”

“All right,” Diana said shakily.

“For now, I want you to stay away from North, if you possibly can. For one thing, my mother is convinced the man is courting me. If she’s in a sweet mood, it’s so much easier for everyone.”

Diana had to ask, though her voice came out in an ashamed whisper. “He isn’t, is he?”

Lavinia snorted. “No. But you must keep a distance both for your peace of mind, and the sake of your reputation. Lady Knowe is a wily old bird. She’s invited half the country to this ball.”

“I have nothing to wear.”

“You’ll wear a gown of mine, of course. Thank goodness, we have the same bosom, so I doubt my clothes will need more than a stitch here or there to fit as if they were made for you instead of me.”

“Thank you,” Diana said.

“At the ball, I want you to dance with everyone, but only once with North. You have to keep an indifferent, if not bored, expression on your face. Do you think you can do that, Diana?”

“I can try.”

“I will tell him to stop watching you,” Lavinia said. “I came to fetch you because we need to begin altering a morning dress immediately. If I see you dressed like a rusty crow again, I’m going to tear the garment off you myself.”