C*cky Marquess by Annabelle Anders

Chapter 20

“Diana,” Bethany peeked around the door of Collette’s chamber where Diana and Collette were writing letters to Sarah and their mother. They wouldn’t need to prepare for the ball that evening for several hours, but they refused to nap as most debutantes did before a grand event.

“We’ll be finished shortly.” Diana replaced her quill on the table and glanced up. “Did you need help selecting your gown for tonight?”

Even though married and perfectly lovely, Bethany suffered doubts when it came to her wardrobe. She’d admitted that in the past, she’d had a tendency to dress like an elderly lady’s companion, which she’d essentially been to her mother before marrying Chase.

But Bethany swept inside, twin spots of excitement on her cheeks, both hands fluttering.

“Not right now, although I’ll want your opinion later.” She turned to Diana. “You have a visitor—a gentleman visitor.”

As Captain Edgeworth and Lord Major Cockfield had sent a message canceling their proposed drive due to an unexpected meeting at headquarters, Diana could only imagine one person who might be downstairs.

“Lord Greystone,” Bethany announced, confirming Diana’s suspicions.

Warmth blossomed in Diana’s belly. Did he miss her already? Had he come so that he could take her driving again? Or perhaps he merely wished to lay claim to a set with her at the ball tonight.

Before Diana could look to Collette to explore possible reasons, however, Bethany gushed the explanation.

“Chaswick has given him permission to offer for you, and although I’ve always found the marquess to be a pleasant gentleman, I’ve often thought he cared more than most for the opinions of others, and I’ve never considered those mattering to you.” Bethany’s thumb tapped successively at each of her fingers, something she only did when she was feeling distraught or nervous. “But…What I’m trying to say, but failing miserably at saying, is that you needn’t accept him if you don’t wish to. And likewise, if you do wish to accept him, you will, of course, have Chaswick’s and my wholehearted support.”

Diana comprehended what Bethany was saying even as her blood boiled. “He said he wouldn’t come.” But then she recalled the exact promise he’d made.

He’d told her he wouldn’t speak with Chase that morning.

And since it was well into the afternoon…

Diana stared up at the ceiling. It was a wonder that her head didn’t explode into his precious universe as she comprehended his betrayal.

Had he told Chaswick what they’d done? There were certain matters a girl wished to keep private from the world, and she wished, even more, to keep them secret from her brother! Heat crept up her neck and she pressed her hands to her cheeks, unable to even speak, and was vaguely aware of Collette staring at her in concern.

“I believe she’s going to need a moment, Bethany,” Collette said. “If you wouldn’t mind asking Lord Greystone to wait.”

“Of course,” Comprehending that this proposal was not the lucky occasion she’d believed it might be, Bethany nodded. “Take all the time you need.”

Diana swallowed hard and dipped her chin. “Thank you.” Yes. Make him wait—an hour—all day—a year.

Her sweet sister-in-law backed out and silently closed the door behind her.

How could he do this to her after last night? She’d thought her opinions mattered to him. Was that the case only when they conveniently lined up with his? And was this the way he would treat her going into the future? Would he tell her what he thought she wanted to hear and then go on to do precisely as he pleased?

Worst of all, if she went downstairs and he dropped onto one knee and stared up at her adoringly, begging her to make him the proudest of men, was it possible she might accept?

Diana covered her face with both hands. “I can’t do this.” Collette had come up beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“I thought he said he wouldn’t go to Chase.” Collette said, offering a consoling squeeze.

“So did I.” Diana felt her chest tighten. “I can’t… I can’t.” Her breaths became more and more shallow.

“Hush, Diana. Sit down. Here. Have a comfit.” Collette popped a mint into Diana’s mouth before she could stop her. Diana bit right through the candy, but with her sister’s hand stroking her arm, her breaths began to ease.

“Simply tell him no.” Collette’s advice sounded perfectly reasonable.

“But… if he kisses me, I’m not sure I can.” Diana burst to her feet. “So, I can’t go down there. I can’t talk to him.”

Her sister raised her brows. “Why not hide in your bedchamber, refuse to meet with him?”

“But what if he comes upstairs anyway?” Was he so stubborn as to do that? “He’s ignored my wishes already.” For which she’d like to strangle him but then might just as likely find herself doing other, less violent but equally inappropriate things to him… Like running her fingers through his short but thick ebony strands of hair or smoothing her palms over his chest. The thought of him breaking into her bedchamber elicited a throbbing between her thighs…

Diana squeezed her eyes closed.

Although she wanted intimacy with him, she refused to marry him in order to have it. Furthermore, thanks to her brother’s and Bethany’s good intentions, becoming Zeke’s mistress was out of the question as well.

And then she remembered the advertisement she’d seen posted last week. “I do have choices Collette. And I have a plan.”

“What are you thinking?” Collette’s stare was a wary one. “Surely not Le—"

“Théâtre du Ballet Saint-Martin,” Diana confirmed. “It’s possible that they are still seeking dancers. I’ll use the servants’ stairs and exit through the back. But I don’t want to chance going to my chamber first. Can I use this?” Diana held up one of Collette’s bonnets. “With any luck, I’ll be able to flag down a hackney.”

“In the heart of Mayfair?” Collette was already hurrying around the room, pulling out a different bonnet and gathering up her reticule. “We may have to walk a ways. But, regardless, I won’t allow you to go there alone.”

“You don’t have to…” Diana’s heart swelled as her sister bustled her toward the door.

“Of course, I must, you ninny. You’re my sister.”

They walked for what felt like hours before one of the hackney drivers took pity, complaining that he normally didn’t take up passengers such as themselves—unchaperoned ladies—but was willing to accept their money, nonetheless. It was a victory, however, albeit a small one, and staring out the window as the carriage ambled along, Diana hoped it wouldn’t be in vain.

She swiped at her eyes, determined not to think about Zeke.

“Are you crying?” Collette asked.

“Dust.” Diana lied.

Her sister gratefully didn’t question her farther, but instead handed over a handkerchief, and by the time the carriage drew to a halt outside Le Théâtre du Ballet Saint-Martin, Diana’s tears were all but forgotten.

“This is it?” Diana frowned. With such an exotic name, the theater ought to be a tad more impressive than it actually was.

Collette shrugged. “It’s not exactly Drury Lane, is it.”

“Not quite.” Diana agreed.

Although Le Theatre was one of London’s newer entertainments, it was mostly shunned by the social elite. Partly because the style of dance had been popularized in France, but perhaps more so because of the costumes the dancers were required to wear. The scandalous Tutu’s worn by the ballerinas, were mostly just very short skirts that revealed the entire length of the dancers’ legs.

Spying the “hiring within” bulletin posted on one of the windows, Diana breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, after finding the doors locked, and then after knocking on and off for nearly ten minutes to no avail, her heart sank.

Even so, she refused to admit defeat so readily. Because, as a young woman on the brink of her life, she must have choices.

“Try the service doors in back,” a delivery man tipped his cap to them. “They keep the front entrance locked during the day.”

Collette and Diana both thanked him and then crept around the side of the building where he’d pointed.

“I’m not sure about this, Diana,” Collette said as she followed Diana through a littered and narrow corridor.

“Why not?”

Rather than answer, Collette instead flicked her gaze to where some of the bricks were crumbling, and most were covered with soot.

Diana shook her head, dismissing her sister’s concerns. Five minutes later, however, she was clutching Collette’s arm as they entered the back where a door had been propped open with one of those same bricks. And once inside, both girls paused in order to wait for their eyes to adjust, but also because neither had the slightest idea what to do next.

Diana cleared her throat. “Excuse me.” She called across to a gentleman who was manipulating some pullies and ropes. “I’ve come to apply for a position. Would you please tell me where I can find your manager?”

Not in any hurry, the man turned to them and then rubbed an arm across his face leaving a long streak of grease before answering. “Nothing ‘ere for a proper English lady. You’ve come to the wrong place.”

“Oh, but there is. And I’m not. I’m a dancer. I wish to work in the theatre.”

The fellow laughed. “Last I ‘eard, ‘e ‘ad all the dancer’s we need. Unless you’re willing to work in the laundry, best do your dancing at your fancy balls.”

“I’m willing to earn my way,” Diana lifted her chin. She had not expected this to be easy. “Where might I locate your manager?”

A woman appeared from behind him. She had bright red hair piled atop her head and wore a diaphanous gown that suited her perfectly. “Monsieur Whitman is not available maintenant. He is observing le rehearsal.” That the woman was French ought not to have surprised Diana. “Return tomorrow if you still wish to apply but come early.” Her instructions almost sounded like a dare.

“Very well.” Diana held out a gloved hand. “My name is Diana Jones, And you are…?”

“Claudette.” The woman ignored her hand and turned away, excusing her without so much as another word.

Collette, who’d held herself back while Diana made her inquiries, stepped up beside her and, gripping Diana’s elbow, tugged her toward the door where they’d entered.

“That wasn’t at all promising,” Collette muttered as they emerged into the sunshine again, bustling them back to the street so they could flag another hackney. “If we hurry, we’ll still have plenty of time to dress for the Ravensdale’s ball.”

The ball. The Ton. Byrd House.

“Do you think Chaswick is going to be angry?” Diana asked.

With all the apprehension of journeying to the theater behind her, the consequences of sneaking out of Byrd house to avoid Zeke’s proposal loomed ominously.

Because Diana conceded as she waved frantically for the approaching black vehicle to stop…

She couldn’t avoid him forever.