How To Rescue A Rake (Book Club Belles Society 3) (23 page)

Unfortunately she felt her cousin’s eyes regarding her with chilly resentment, worse than before, and Diana wondered if she was not the only one who had begun to suspect.

Nathaniel borrowed a curricle from a business acquaintance, but he did not ride to Westgate Buildings to fetch Mrs. Sayles. He rode to the lodge early, knowing that Diana was always punctual and would probably be waiting with her coat on. Didn’t want her having too much time to think and come up with excuses when he turned up at her door instead of George, did he?

To his surprise, she was not waiting but still above stairs. Nathaniel was shown into the drawing room where he found Jonty and Lady Plumtre in evening dress, ready for the concert.

He hurriedly explained there had been a change of plan with the travel arrangements. “Mrs. Sayles was feeling under the weather and decided to stay at home with her aunt. Since I have the room, I thought I had better fill it with Miss Makepiece.”

“But what about George?” Sir Jonty exclaimed.

“I understand there was some trouble with the new curricle. He said he would be delayed and asked me to make his apologies.” Nathaniel didn’t like to lie to his new friend, but Diana was worth it. He would do anything for her, he realized, and to have her company for himself alone.

“Well, that’s a dashed sorry business! I warned him not to buy off that fellow Wilson. I’ve never had any luck with the vehicles he sells, have I, Lizzie?”

His wife ignored him and focused her spiteful eyes on Nathaniel. “Diana has been in such a tizzy all day. I cannot think why. It is only a concert.”

Jonty replied, “She must not get so much excitement at home. ’Tis no wonder she is all at sixes and sevens. These young ladies do like to make a bit of a fuss over their pretty frocks.” He strode to the brandy decanter on the sideboard. “Anybody want a stiffener before we go?”

His wife pulled on her long, white gloves. “Well, I doubt anyone cares what dress she wears. No one is going to be looking at
her
amid such exalted company, are they?”

“I shall,” Nathaniel replied quietly.

Sir Jonty didn’t hear. Discovering the crystal decanter lighter than he expected, he now marched to the door, shouting at the dogs that got under his feet and hollering for the butler to bring another bottle.

His wife, however, had heard Nathaniel’s comment.

“I hope you know, Captain,” said Lady Plumtre, “that my cousin is not in the market for a husband. Although you stated your own desire for a wife, Diana did not come to Bath for
that
.”

“Is that so?”

“She is to be my companion in the future. Her mother needs somewhere to put her, naturally, and I can give Diana a home.”

“I doubt that is her mother’s plan.” He stopped hastily, remembering they were not supposed to have met before. “Most mothers want their daughters to marry well. They don’t generally resign them to the life of a spinster lady’s companion, especially when they are still so young.”

Lady Plumtre laughed scathingly. “Young? You have been misled, perhaps by the eccentric way my sisters-in-law have encouraged her to dress. Diana Makepiece is soon to be eight-and-twenty. As for marriage, she gave that idea up some years ago when she broke off a long engagement. Her mother surely knows that Diana thwarted her own prospects then. She cannot expect another such chance to come her way. She has no dowry, nothing to recommend her really beyond a neat embroidery stitch and some little bit of skill at the pianoforte. She would have taken that other man while she could, if she had any desire to marry.”

Her husband was on his way back across the room, tripping over his dogs a second time. “But, Lizzie, our George is quite besotted with her. Has his heart set on the lady.”

She spun around to face him. “For pity’s sake, stop calling me by that dreadful name. I am Elizabeth. If you cannot remember it, don’t call me anything. And how can George be set on anybody when he was, not two weeks ago, grieving for another woman and swore he would never recover?”

Jonty’s face reddened and he got on with pouring the brandy from a new bottle.

“As for Diana,” Lady Plumtre continued snidely, “she is the worst woman for a man like George. She is cold and callous. Strung her fiancé along for two years and then, without the slightest warning, sent him away into the arms of another woman. Completely out of the blue she decided she could not marry him. So you see, Captain Sherringham, Diana is not looking for suitors. She is resolved to a future as my companion.”

At first Nathaniel felt anger bubbling up inside. Of course the bloody woman wouldn’t tell him that
she
was the one who ended the engagement to Shaw. What was she afraid of? That Nathaniel might think she did it because of him? That she had ever regretted her choice?

But the anger turned to something else when Diana entered the drawing room a few moments later. He began to wish he had accepted a glass of brandy from Jonty after all, for suddenly he needed the courage. He, who had never lacked it before around a beautiful woman.

She had sent Shaw away. She had defied her mother after all. Could this be the truth?

As for Diana being resigned to spinsterhood and spending the rest of her life at Lady Plumtre’s beck and call?

Not likely. Not if he had any say in the matter.

She claimed to want only a lover, a temporary amusement while she spread her wings in Bath. But he was not prepared to let her go again.

He suffered a jolt of guilt as he thought of George whose heart was supposedly set on Diana. It was not entirely believable, considering the fellow’s mournful demeanor only so recently put aside, but she was an exceptional woman. Perhaps George Plumtre truly did have intentions toward her and it wasn’t merely a case of Jonty’s optimism taking that leap.

Was it wrong for him to want her still? To sweep her away from George?

She wore a dark burgundy gown, simple and elegant, but she needed no embellishments. He realized it was the same dress she’d worn at the Manderson assemblies. Tonight, however, it looked different. Or was it simply the woman inside it who had changed? Her hair was softly curled about her face and tied up with a few bands of ribbon in a Grecian style. Small pearls hung from her ears—the only jewelry.

“Well, I must say!” Jonty exclaimed, almost dropping his glass. “You look quite lovely, my dear.”

A light pink suffused Diana’s cheeks and she looked at the carpet, her thick, dark lashes lowered. “I am sorry it took so long, but I had to wait for the maid.”

“Well, if she hadn’t made an undue fuss over dressing me, you might have had her sooner,” her cousin remarked. “She was all thumbs dressing my hair and could not get it the way I wanted it. Useless girl. I really don’t know why I bother taking such young girls in to train them.”

“Because she’s cheap, ain’t she?” Jonty laughed. “And it gives you someone else to shout at other than me, Lizzie.”

Before Lady Plumtre could start berating her husband again, Nathaniel stepped up and bowed. “Miss Makepiece, I would gladly wait thrice the time for the pleasure of escorting such a beautiful lady to the Bath Assembly Rooms on a Wednesday evening.”

Her lashes lifted and he saw the gleam of shock. “You’re here for me? But where is George…Mr. Plumtre?”

Probably about to read a forged note from Mrs. Sayles begging him to fetch her from Westgate Buildings
, he mused. “He had some trouble with his curricle and sent me in his place so you would not miss the beginning of the concert. Such a gentleman he is.”

Diana gazed at Nathaniel as if she didn’t believe a word of it.

“Shall we go?” he said.

She hesitated, but finally took his arm. “Something about this is very odd. If not for Bach,” she muttered from the corner of her lips, “I would stay here and not mind if I was late.”

“Cheers to Johann Sebastian then.” Nathaniel steered her quickly out to his borrowed curricle before anyone could discover his ruse, or before he changed his mind and gave in to the unusual occurrence of a guilty conscience.

* * *

Beside him in the small, well-sprung vehicle, Diana watched the glittering lights of Bath flash by. The satin sky above them was not yet as dark as it would be, but already dotted with stars. The warm air drifted around her like a soft, silk cape with only a gentle breeze stroking her face as they dashed along.

“Lady Plumtre tells me you mean to become her companion,” said Nathaniel suddenly. “That you are resigned to being an old maid, to living at her side and serving at her beck and call for the rest of your life.”

What a horrible thought! She chuckled.

“She can give you a home, she said. When your mother no longer can.”

“How charitable of her.”

“And
you
ended the engagement with Shaw,” he said.

Diana sighed heavily, watching stars and puddles of lamplight reflected in the river as they approached the bridge. Her mother must have told Elizabeth, she thought. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“That is an intimate question and I cannot answer it.” Diana’s heart struggled to keep a steady beat. She still had not learned how to discuss what she felt, or even to believe it herself. Although so much was different here—
she
was different—sooner or later she would have to go home to face her mother again. It was all very well to be a new woman away from her mother’s view, but then what? Could this change be lasting for her?

He was still the naughty captain at heart, the accomplished, artful lover, the bold rogue. She was quite sure he’d fabricated the entire story about George’s curricle. Naturally, he wouldn’t worry about what would happen when his deceit was exposed and he’d have to face the consequences. He thought only of the here and now, of what he wanted in that moment.

“What happened to Mrs. Sayles this evening?” she asked coyly.

“She is unwell.”

“But she is always unwell. In the two weeks of our acquaintance I’ve never known that to stop her from going out into society or missing an invitation, however begrudgingly it was granted.”

“I am sure Mr. George Plumtre will find room to bring her. If she should recover suddenly.”

“When he fixes that broken curricle?”

“Yes.” He smirked.

Diana shook her head. “It was rather cruel of you to leave Mrs. Sayles behind.”

“But she wouldn’t know whether she’d missed the beginning of the concert or not. You would. Like your cousin, she is only coming tonight because it’s a social event, not for the music.”

There was no arguing with that. Whatever wickedness he’d employed to arrange their trip together, she was grateful for it. Did that make her as bad as him?

They didn’t wait in the Octagon Room for the rest of their party. Sherry took her directly into the Tea Room where the concert was being held. He was quiet now, thoughtful perhaps.

Diana became aware of people turning to watch them pass. There were appreciative smiles and respectful nods, evident curiosity and keen interest. She could not imagine that any of it was for her in that old gown. It had to be for Sherry who, as usual, stole more light than any other man in the room. How lovely it was to be on his arm. She had imagined herself shrinking, squinting, and shriveling in such a bright, hot glow, but when he smiled at her with genuine pleasure she forgot her fears and stretched into the warm light. His smile was just as effective as a spoonful of Dr. Penny’s tonic.

On the way to their seats, he stopped and introduced her to several folk. They knew him through his business it seemed. He had asked her first if she would mind meeting them and she had replied in mild surprise, “Why would I mind? Of course I would like to meet your friends.”

They were pleasant, well-spoken, witty people who greeted her with polite cordiality and seemed not in the least startled that Sherry would be in the company of such a shy, plain girl. Well, not so plain, she thought, remembering that he had accused her of false modesty. She was getting accustomed to looking in the mirror and not immediately finding all her bad features, looking instead for the good, the passable, and the slightly improved.

Nor was she so shy anymore. Diana had proven to herself that she could be entertaining and hold her own in a conversation. She’d had plenty of practice at the Plumtres’ table where it was necessary to be loud. One might starve otherwise.

* * *

They took their seats. The lights were lowered and the chatter of the crowd muted. He had made sure to arrive separately from the others in their party because he wanted to sit with her away from all of them. He didn’t want her to suffer the distractions and demands of that noisy bunch, because he knew what music meant to her. Over the years of their acquaintance he had witnessed her yearning to simply enjoy the music while everyone around her prevented it.

Tonight he wanted her to know that he understood, that he was not the empty-headed buffoon she thought him to be. Well, not always.

He might not be as clever as she was about music, but he knew what it was to be frustrated, to want something badly and never quite be able to capture it.

And he was wooing her, as he’d warned. He gave her all his attention.

Several women at the concert recognized him, but he carefully avoided their searching gazes and waving fingers. If Diana noticed, she gave no sign.

As the music began, he reached for her gloved hand and held it lightly on his thigh.

She did not struggle to take it back, and her fingers eventually relaxed as the slightly plaintive notes of a slowly soaring melody took hold of her senses.

Nathaniel wanted to say much to her, but tonight he would be quiet and let her enjoy the music.

* * *

According to the printed program at which she’d glanced as they sat down, this was Bach’s Concerto in D minor for two violins and orchestra. She would never forget. That rather uninspired name had given no clue as to the heart-wrenching beauty of the music they were about to hear. Although familiar with the composer’s work, she had never heard this piece and it was instantly carved into her soul.

With her hand in Sherry’s, she let the music claim her. Felt the poignant notes steal inside her veins and fill her with exquisite joy. Never had she been able to hear an entire piece from beginning to end without interruption.