The Regency Season: Forbidden Pleasures: The Rake to Rescue Her / The Rake to Reveal Her. Julia JustissЧитать онлайн книгу.
go. ‘I’ll miss you,’ he admitted.
‘Then come back quickly.’
With that, she walked from the room.
* * *
Alastair followed her through the bedchamber to the stairs, listening to the soft footfalls as she descended and the murmur of voices in the entry below where Marston, as previously arranged, waited to engage a chair to carry her safely home.
Once the last echoes faded, he returned to the sitting room, threw himself in a chair, poured another glass of wine, and reviewed what he’d just committed himself to doing.
It did not represent him easing the reins restraining his feelings, he assured the cautious voice in his head. Any man of honour would step in to assure the safety of a child.
It did indicate, however, that sometime over the course of their renewed association, he had come to accept as true the explanation she’d given him for breaking their engagement to marry the Duke.
Drawing back from considering the full implications of that transformation, he turned his mind instead to considering what Diana had told him about her relationship with the new Duke and her fears for her son’s safety.
Though he still thought Diana’s long, bitter association with her husband and his heir caused her to exaggerate the son’s ruthlessness and enmity, he had to admit he was curious how well she’d been provided for. If there truly were no settlements outlining the exact arrangements for her support if widowed, it represented a grievous failure of his responsibilities on the part of her father.
But it was also true that the professor had been a completely unworldly man, a scholar absorbed in his studies. If he had come to view the Duke as a friend and colleague, he might well have been satisfied with just a verbal assurance that his daughter would be well taken care of in the event of her husband’s demise. Particularly as, in the absence of some formal agreement, she would have the dower to a very wealthy estate.
He’d have to confer with his solicitor on this matter, but he didn’t see how the new Duke could deny rights guaranteed under English law. He had to admit, though, that being entitled to something and effectively claiming it could be quite different matters, especially if a personage with the power and resources of a duke set his mind to making it as time-consuming and difficult as possible.
But all of that was for his legal counsel to discover. What warmed him now, as much as the satisfaction of his well-pleasured body, was the fact that he’d managed to persuade Diana to confide in him.
Since encountering her again, he’d been accumulating evidence in mites and snippets of what her married life had been: her at first rejected account of her marriage, the episodes described by Lady Randolph, the information he’d teased out of her about the removal of her paints and books. But aside from that single moment upon awakening yesterday, when she’d looked at him with awe and tenderness, she’d maintained emotionally aloof.
Regrettable as it was that she’d found herself in such a vulnerable position, Alastair had to admit he was almost—glad of it. Without such an imminent threat to her son, she might have continued keeping him at arm’s length indefinitely.
Instead, with some persistence, tonight he’d managed to breach the wall of impassivity she’d erected to disguise her thoughts and feelings, giving him the clearest-yet glimpse into her life. It wrung his heart to realise how difficult it had been for her to force herself to reach out to him, emphasising even further how isolated and alone she’d become.
Still, the concern, independence and initiative she’d exhibited in seeking to shelter her child not only called out his strongest protective instincts, they also gave him enticing glimpses of the girl he’d once known, now more mature, stronger and seasoned by the loss and suffering she’d survived.
Having disarmed her defences to the point of eliciting those revelations, he was more determined than ever to complete the job. To release the Diana still not free of the mask, persuade her it was now safe to step out of isolation and encourage her to claim the life that awaited her.
Only after he’d arranged for her and her son’s protection and coaxed her out of the shadows, would he turn his attention to their possible future. And decide whether to try winning her anew, or let her go before it was too late for him to walk away.
Several days after Alastair’s departure, Diana restlessly paced her parlour. Rain had kept her from a walk with James this morning, and with the resulting mud and wet, it was probably best not to attempt to walk this afternoon.
She was finding it harder and harder to force down her worry, bottle up concern over the future, and present an impassive face to the staff. Even sessions before the mirror were failing her.
Would talking with Alastair again help? She’d felt calmer after returning from their last rendezvous. She told herself it was not missing him that further complicated her tangle of thoughts.
He certainly had been effective at stirring up her feelings. Which meant it would be better to avoid him, once he ended their bargain. Since she’d started seeing him, dribs and drabs of emotion had been leaching out, each leak further weakening the dykes she’d erected to contain them.
Perhaps one day she would be able to ease those restraints, release the anguish and the memories in slow, manageable bits and at length, be free of them.
But now was not that time.
She’d thought if she relaxed just enough to permit Alastair to reach her physically, she’d be able to distract him with passion and escape more intense scrutiny.
Instead, after only two meetings, he’d managed to unearth her most shameful secret and her deepest worry.
In her defence, only the imperative to do whatever she could to protect James had pushed her to reveal the situation. In the wake of that confession, she’d careened from horror that she’d divulged the dilemma to him, shame over admitting her failings with her son, and relief that she would not have to contest the Duke alone. Embracing Alastair without reservation before she left him, she’d felt...safe. That concerned her.
It had been wise to elicit the aid of anyone willing to help her in her battle with the Duke—that much she owed to James. But to assume that Alastair Ransleigh or anyone else would stand by her was foolish. Not only foolish, it put James’s safety at risk to depend upon support that could disappear as unexpectedly as the whim to offer it.
Alastair hadn’t denied it when she’d stated that he’d only be around a short time. He’d pledged to have a solicitor spell out the legal parameters of the threat she faced. She could not expect him, nor had he offered, to involve himself beyond that point. She must prepare herself to enter the struggle and deal with its consequences alone.
She began to consider what she would do if the solicitor returned an unfavourable assessment of her ability to retain custody of James.
Allowing him to go to Graveston was out of the question. She would flee England before she’d permit that. With the war finally over, they might be able to settle in some small rural village in France. Her French was impeccable—Papa had seen to that; she could give lessons in English, piano, watercolours.
Except how was she to obtain a position without references? The amounts she could obtain from selling her few remaining jewels would support them for a time, but even in the depressed economy of a war-ravaged area, they wouldn’t be able to live on them for ever.
She had no other assets besides that small store of jewellery, inherited from her father’s mother. Not grand enough that the Duke had permitted her to wear any of it, nor valuable enough for him to bother selling the pieces, she’d been able to secrete them away. She’d left all of the ornate and valuable jewels presented to her by the Duke at Graveston Court, wanting nothing that reminded her of her life as Graveston’s Duchess.
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