C*cky Marquess by Annabelle Anders

Chapter 15

Diana lay in her bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling contemplating Collette’s tantalizing suggestion that she visit Lord Greystone at his home, away from the prying eyes of the Ton. If Diana dared go through with such madcap idea, she could talk with him.

Although a mere conversation wasn’t likely to solve anything.

Greystone had not confessed their indiscretion to her brother, nor had he attended the Pinkerton’s Musicale that evening. In fact, two whole days had passed now without so much as a glimpse of her favorite aristocrat.

Although she’d heard he had been seen driving Lady Isabella through the park the day before. Diana hated that her belly curdled at the thought.

He had honored her request not to go to her brother and confess what they’d done, and for that, she was grateful. But she hated to admit even to herself—she was also disappointed that he hadn’t. Not that she could marry any man under such circumstances—especially not a marquess. She knew her limitations, and stepping into the role of a marchioness was one of them.

Trouble was…

She missed him.

And it troubled her more to think he was reverting to his staid and somber self to court Lady Isabella. He deserved better. He deserved more. He deserved to have fun.

Of course, she was the best person to provide that fun.

Diana heard the door creaking open but wasn’t concerned because she could just make out the shadow of her sister.

“You’re still awake,” Collette whispered before closing the door behind her.

“I am,” Diana rolled onto her side and then edged over to make room for her sister to join her. They’d begun having secret late-night talks when they were little and were yet to break the habit.

“You’re thinking of doing it, aren’t you.” Collette’s voice was more than a little exasperated. “Diana, you can’t.”

Sneaking out of Byrd House to visit Lord Greystone late at night would be highly improper and possibly dangerous.

“Remind me why not?”

Collette lay on her back, staring up at the same shadows Diana had been watching alone the moment before.

“Aside from being seen driving with her.” Collette turned her head to stare through the dark at Diana. “And then he wasn’t at the musical.”

It had been a dull evening indeed.

“Nor were Lord and Lady Huntly.” Collette added.

“Or Lady Isabella.” Diana had noticed their absence as well. How could she not? “But then again, neither was Lord Westerley, or Mr. Spencer, or—”

“Diana,” Collette interrupted. “You were the one who begged him not to speak with Chase. And now he has made his choice.”

“Has he?” Diana sighed and rolled over, tucking her hands beneath her cheek. “Or have others made it for him?”

“He isn’t one to follow his passions, Diana. He isn’t like you, is he?”

Which was precisely why he needed her.

“It’s arrogant of me to think that I know him all that well--to think that I know what he needs better than himself and his aunt and all those dead people… but,” Diana raised her hand to her heart. “I feel this pain for him, deep inside. It’s as though my heart understands what he needs, and what he really needs is…”

“What?”

“He needs… me.” Diana felt foolish the moment she said the words out loud. But Collette wasn’t laughing. She was staring up at the ceiling again. “But he cannot marry me,” Diana said. “And I cannot marry him. Not really.”

“He is a very proper gentleman, and you…”

“I am not very proper at all.”

“You cannot be his mistress.”

Collette was right. The moment Chase entered their lives, she knew that hers, Collette’s, and Sarah’s lives would be different from what their mother’s had been. The assumption had been that their lives would be better.

But, “Mama was happy, Collette,” Diana said. “Once, when I was angry after Papa left, she told me she felt sorry for his wife. She told me that Papa came to her—to us—because he wanted to. And that he lived with the baroness and Chaswick because he had to. She told me she would rather be a delight than a duty.”

Collette exhaled loudly beside her. “She told me the same, and yet, more than once, I found her in tears after Papa left. Especially when he’d leave for the country to spend the summer with his real family.”

“We werehis real family.” Diana insisted. “Not them.”

“You know what I mean. Diana, you cannot be Greystone’s mistress.”

“I know.” But she didn’t feel a tremendous conviction over it.

“The idea that you could go to him at night was only a joke, Diana. Are you listening to me?”

“What?”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Collette’s gaze bored into hers though the darkness. “I know you, Diana. You’ve always followed your passions, even when we were little. But this is different than everything else. Just… don’t. If you were discovered going to him, you’d never be welcomed in the Ton again—even if our brother is a baron. Heck, Diana, we’d both be shunned even if Chaswick was a duke—not that I’d care.”

“You might.” Diana sighed.

“You would care.”

“I care about him, Collette. I miss him.” Diana stared through the dark at where she could barely make out Collette’s eyes. She did not expect a tear to escape at that moment.

“I know, Di. But these feelings will pass. Are you sure you couldn’t marry Captain Edgeworth and simply remain in London while he goes away on assignments? You could stay here with Bethany and Chase.”

Diana tried to imagine such a scenario. Unfortunately, she couldn’t imagine marrying the captain. She couldn’t even imagine kissing him. “What would be the use of marrying then?”

“Respectability. Security,” Collette sighed. “Children.”

She and Collette lay silently until her sister finally rolled over and climbed off the bed. “I suppose I’d better get some sleep. Remember that we’ve promised Captain Edgeworth and Lord Major Cockfield we’d drive with them tomorrow. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“I know.” Diana sighed. When she’d accepted, she’d convinced herself it might be fun.

“Times like these, I’m happy I’m not of the mind to marry,” Collette said. She opened the door.

“Times like these, I’d sacrifice my opportunities as well,” Diana returned.

“Diana,” Collette sent her one last hard stare. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Who me?” She could laugh at the expression on her sister’s face. But truth be told, she wasn’t so sure Collette’s suspicions were without merit.

* * *

Greys didn’t glanceup even though he realized he was no longer alone. “Please convey to Mr. Simpson that I will not require his services and that he may retire for the evening.” He had not been in a decent mood since discussing his prospects over cards. Strike that, he’d been in a foul mood since waking up that morning.

Blackheart was right. Greys had been behaving in a manner directly opposed to the values his grandfather had instilled in him.

“I am not here regarding your valet.” A wary note in Blackheart’s voice snagged Greys’ full attention. “But because you have a visitor.”

“Who has the bollocks to visit this late?” Greys muttered.

Although it was common for members of the Ton to stay up socializing most of the night, they did not make it a habit of calling on one another in the early hours of the morning.

“Miss Diana Jones, to see you, my lord.” Blackheart stepped to the side, revealing a cape-clad woman. Greys’ heart flipped in his chest.

And then resumed beating, more robust than it had before her arrival.

Meeting his gaze, she unfastened the button at her neck and then pushed her hood back. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright, but the smile she flashed was a tentative one.

“You said you would show me your observatory.” Her voice broke the silence, assuring Greys that he wasn’t imagining her unexpected presence.

Blackheart hadn’t moved but was staring at Greys with raised brows. That her appearance caused even the duke to show indecision spoke volumes as to the ambiguous nature of her character.

“My thanks, Mr. Cockfield,” Greys managed, dismissing him.

“Shall I bring around a carriage?” Blackheart asked.

“How did you get here?” Greys demanded of Diana.

“I…” She frowned. “I walked.”

Good God. The deep breath Greys inhaled through his nostrils returned some of his usual calm. She should not be here, and yet, he was reluctant to send her away.

“I’ll call for you when I’m ready to convey Miss Jones back to her brother’s home.”

Pausing for only a moment, Blackheart nodded and then made himself scarce.

Greys went to tug on one of his shirt sleeves before realizing he’d long since rolled them up to his elbows, shortly after he’d shed his jacket and waistcoat.

“You were not at the musicale.” It didn’t sound like an accusation, rather an observation on her part.

Was he insane that rather than being annoyed by her interruption, he was extraordinarily pleased?

More than pleased.

“Are you insane?” he asked her the question he ought to be asking himself.

She shrugged.

Greys exploded. “You walked over here? A woman alone? At—” he glanced toward the clock resting on his mantle “—two-thirty-five in the morning? Dear God, woman! Do you realize what could have happened to you?”

He continued his rant, unable to stop until she all but folded herself into her cape, her bottom lip trembling as she backed toward the door.

“This was a mistake.” But when she actually turned to leave, Greys tore across the room, one hand holding the door closed, his body inches from hers.

Against his better judgment, he rasped out two words.

“Don’t go.” He wasn’t ready.

Besides, she had a reason for coming, and he’d not yet bothered to hear her out.

“Please?” he added, almost afraid to breathe. “Allow me to take your wrap?” He had a few manners left, despite his unexpected surge of temper.

When she finally nodded, her scent floated up, bringing calm to his senses, a calm he’d craved all day.

But the thought of her walking through the dark, alone… His vision had clouded red at the danger she’d put herself in. If something were to happen to her…

A chill shot down his spine.

Her fingers found and then fumbled with her buttons. When he saw that they were shaking, he reached up, intending to help her. But instead, he froze, covering her hands with his.

Greys wanted to be the one to protect her.

She raised her gaze to meet his and then winced. “It was rather frightening. The distance between here and Byrd house seemed much greater in the dark.”

And she’d braved it for…

Him?

“Does Chaswick know—” He’d barely uttered the question before realizing that, of course, her brother didn’t know. There was no way in hell her brother would allow such a visit. Greys pinched between his eyes. Once again, losing the ability to think clearly around her.

This was why he’d wanted to marry for practical reasons. He was a man who followed his head, not his heart.

Fighting the desire to reacquaint himself with the taste of her lips, he unfastened the remaining buttons and drew the cape off her shoulders.

The gown she wore beneath it was a simple one, light and fresh, and it suited her very much.

Over the course of a single day, he had missed her. But not in the way one missed a friend. He missed her like he’d miss an arm or a leg.

He swallowed hard.

“Would you care for something to drink?” Watching her, he draped the heavy garment over the back of a chair.

“Normally, I would decline, but in this instance, I wouldn’t mind a sip of brandy.” She shivered and then laughed softly at herself.

Nervously.

Why had she come?

The possibilities were tantalizing, none of them proper or forgivable if she was ever found out.

Greys lifted the decanter he kept handy and poured them each a glass. Handing her one, he gestured for her to sit on the small settee and then lowered himself beside her.

“Have you had brandy before?”

She nodded and then raised the snifter to appreciate the bouquet. “It’s delightful.”

This woman somehow appreciated those things in life that brought the greatest enjoyment. The trouble was, she was apt to embrace them without first contemplating the ramifications of doing so.

“How was the musicale?” He wanted to know why she’d come here, but he also just wanted to enjoy having her here, in the place where he retreated to find the truth—that which was pure and undiluted by wealth and birth and norms.

She laughed. “It was pleasant until one of the violin strings broke. They stopped to repair it but nothing was in tune afterward. I have bruises on my side from Bethany poking me with her elbow, trying to keep me from laughing. But how could I stop when even Chaswick could barely contain himself?”

“I wish I’d been there to see that.” It was the truth, too. He sat listening to her uniquely unvarnished descriptions of the audience’s response to an out-of-tune performance. He laughed out loud a few times, but mostly he just enjoyed… her.

She swallowed the last of her brandy and then glanced across the room at his telescope. “What do you use it for?”

“To document the night sky.” Greys kept his answer as simple as possible since most people weren’t genuinely interested in his hobby.

Diana tilted her head and then rose to cross the room. “Why?”

It was an interesting question, which also happened to be one of his favorites when it came to astronomy, philosophy, and mathematics.

“Because.” He pushed himself off the settee and followed her to the spot where he spent many nights alone, looking through the eye-piece and making his notes and drawings. “The more one documents, the more one can study movement and change and then apply a theory. With that theory in mind, the astronomer documents, and studies again, in search of an even greater understanding.”

“I thought only sailors found studying the night particularly useful. What does a Marquess in the middle of London need to understand about the stars?”

“True, the original purpose of studying the stars was for sailors to determine their location and direction based on the position of various celestial objects. But by learning the points of light, the stars, planets, and asteroids as they exist together, we stand to learn who we are, as a world relative to the entire universe.

“Can I look?”

“Of course.” Placing his hand on her back, Greys assisted her into the chair. Only a few moments earlier, he’d been sitting there, lacking the usual enthusiasm he felt for his very personal endeavor.

This minx steps into his observatory, and he is suddenly bursting at the seams to share it with someone. Not just someone—with her.

“Close this eye,” he grazed a finger over one delicate brow and then explained what she was seeing and how mirrors captured and magnified the images.

Greys patiently provided explanations to all her questions, describing recent advancements, and how inspired he was by the writings and discoveries of William Herschel. “The larger the mirror, the more light can be collected to deliver a better image. Astronomers are always looking for ways to capture more light.”

Words he’d spoken before, and yet, speaking them tonight stirred something in his soul.

More light.Was that what he needed?

“You may dance to the tune of the Ton, my lord.” She laughed. “But you are a fraud.”

Greys blinked, not understanding. Was she complimenting or criticizing him? “Explain yourself, madam.”

She relaxed her focus away from the eyepiece just long enough to send him a teasing glance. “You are not the stodgy old marquess you pretend to be. You are an explorer.”

Greys appreciated the sentiment, but at the same time, resented the stodgy old marquess part of her observation.

“I’m not pretending to be anything,” he said.

She turned away from the telescope and was staring down at his drawings now. “You were pretending to court me.” She spoke softly. Their scheme wasn’t really pertinent to this conversation, but Greys didn’t point that out since she was finally getting to the reason for her visit. “But when it became more real than either of us expected, you quit.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I asked you not to meet with Chaswick.” She stared down at her hands. “But I wasn’t ready for it to be over.”

“I—” Greys ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated as hell. They’d been alone together for at least an hour and he still wasn’t sure what she wanted.

“I understand,” she said. “And I’m not mad.”

Greys cocked a brow. She’d asked him not to go to Chaswick. Had she changed her mind, then?

“I just missed you,” she added. “I wanted to talk with you.”

Greys exhaled. “You came her to talk?”

“Yes.”

Incredulous, he searched his mind for what to say. And then, he knew.

“I told you my parents died when I was young,” He met her gaze. “That my grandfather raised me.” He’d been wavering all day. Perhaps talking with her about this would help him find some answers.

She nodded silently.

“Grandfather cared about two things in this world. The marquessate, and me. In that order. My parents, on the other hand, cared only for themselves. Before they died, I knew little peace between them. They loved each other, but they also hated each other.” He shook his head, remembering…

Diana kept right on staring at him, nodding, her eyes wide and understanding, her lips full and inviting.

“But that’s not really relevant.” Greys cleared his throat, trying to remember the point he’d been trying to make.

“Your grandfather became responsible for you.”

He cleared his throat again and glanced across the room. Many of the books he owned had belonged to his grandfather. Mathematics and astronomy were the only passion his grandfather had approved of. “He did. He said he’d failed his duty to my father and my father’s younger brother, but he wouldn’t fail with me.”

Diana had taken one of his hands in hers and was stroking the length of his fingers. “And in turn, you believe you mustn’t fail him.”

Greys jerked away from her. “It would be the height of disloyalty if I did.”