She wondered if he would want her children, ones not of his own blood.

  “I saw him, down on his hands and knees, playing with children at Evie’s Bookstore.”

  The marchioness smiled. “Yes, he was with my niece and nephew and two other children. Sometimes, I think Merrifield is a big child himself. He often has more fun than the children he joins.” She paused. “A man who is willing to dirty himself playing with youngsters is a man who will make for a good husband. He’s ready, Diana. And you seem to be, too.”

  “I am,” she said softly, wishing with all her heart that she could marry someone as kind and handsome as Lord Merrifield. She could imagine children that favored him, girls with dark blond hair and boys tall and sturdy with crystal blue eyes.

  “We should go downstairs. The men will be waiting for us.”

  “I’d like to say goodnight to my sister.”

  “Then I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Both women exited the bedchamber, with Lady Merrick going downstairs and Diana across the hall. Thea lay in bed, propped up with pillows behind her and already wearing her night rail. She crossed the room and kissed her sister’s cheek.

  “My, Diana, don’t you look lovely. Lord Merrifield’s eyes might pop from his head when he sees you.”

  She felt her face flame. “Lady Merrick helped me choose what to wear tonight. She asked me to call her Rachel.”

  “You like him,” Thea prodded. “He certainly is taken with you.”

  “Why do you say that?” she asked, feeling her blush deepen.

  “Amelia told me that hardly anyone was able to speak to you when you went to tea at Lord and Lady Merrick’s. She said her brother kept you engaged in conversation the entire time. I saw the same thing occur yesterday when he returned here for tea. Amelia and I had to stifle our giggles because of how he dominated your attention. And when we spoke to you?” Thea laughed. “He looked hungry as a wolf as he gazed upon you. I’d say you’ve already conquered his heart and from the color of your face, I see you’re interested in him.”

  “Lord Merrifield is a very interesting man.”

  “How so? What have you talked about?”

  “He has a great love of horses. He told me of several in his stables and a new team he’s considering for purchase. We’ve also talked about literature. He’s very well read. Even politics came up for discussion.”

  “You talked politics? Goodness, Diana. I didn’t know you knew anything about it.”

  “I read quite a bit once the twins went to bed every night and the light was too poor to sew. Newspapers were my favorites. I kept up with news of the war abroad. Of the happenings in Parliament.”

  Thea looked upon her with new eyes. “I respect that, Diana, but I must caution you. Most men aren’t interested in bluestockings. I’m not saying you should act like a featherbrain but you might want to cut back on talk regarding serious subjects.”

  “Why? Lord Merrifield was interested in my opinions.”

  Her sister shook her head. “Not every man is Lord Merrifield. Then again, he’s so handsome I’d almost call him beautiful. He’s titled. Probably wealthy. You may have already found your match.”

  Diana frowned. “He may be everything I might want but with my reputation, he would do well to think twice and not sully his own family’s name by making a connection with me.”

  Thea snorted. “You worry too much. Go enjoy your first opera. And if Lord Merrifield is meant for you, he will love you for you—and come to adore the twins as well.”

  “If you say so. Goodnight.”

  Diana left the room and hurried downstairs. She’d already put the twins to bed before Lady Merrick arrived. No, Rachel. No, she should keep her distance with the marchioness. It would be easier to break relations with her once the gossip mill started.

  As she turned to descend the final flight of stairs, Lord Merrifield awaited her at the foot of the staircase. He watched her the entire way down, causing her to tighten her grip on the banister as her heart attempted to explode from her chest. He wore dark evening clothes and the snowiest shirt, its whiteness almost blinding her as much as his enchanting smile.

  She reached the last step and he held a hand out, helping her to the bottom.

  “Good evening, Lady Diana. May I say you look simply ravishing this evening?”

  “Thank you,” she replied, her mouth as dry as cotton. “Lady Merrick suggested what I should wear tonight.”

  “Then I have her to thank.” His smile was one that lit his entire face, reaching his eyes, unlike others she’d known. He offered his arm. “Shall we?”

  Diana took it and could feel the heat even through the layers of clothing he wore and her own gloves. A giddiness caused her stomach to flip and flop outrageously. If a mere touch affected her so, what would it be like to kiss this man?

  She pushed the thought aside as he helped her into the carriage that awaited them. She would never know. He’d soon learn about her multitude of sins and cease speaking to her.

  But she had tonight with him, while he still was unaware of her reputation. She would make the most if it.

  He seated himself beside her in the carriage and Lord and Lady Merrick sat opposite them. Diana found her entire right side flush against his left. The carriage was the usual size but Lord Merrifield seemed to take up a good portion of the seat. She found her cheeks growing warm again and looked out the window. Then she feared it would seem rude and she turned back to her companions.

  They spoke of Drury Lane and where they would sup after the opera. She hadn’t known they would eat once the performance ended. There was so much she didn’t know about society and reminded herself that society soon wouldn’t welcome her. That she had these few days to enjoy its company before she was ostracized.

  “Do you know the story of Don Giovanni?” Lord Merrick asked.

  “I don’t. I’ve never attended any kind of live performance.”

  “Merrifield, why don’t you tell Lady Diana the story? You’ve always managed to have a way with words.”

  “I’d be delighted.” He turned slightly to face her. “The opera won’t be sung in English, which is why it might be good to have an idea about the storyline going into it.”

  “I find even though it’s in Italian, you can tell so much from the emotions that flit across the singers’ faces and the depth of feeling in their words,” Lady Merrick said.

  “Most operas end tragically. Don Giovanni is no exception,” the earl explained.

  “Oh, I didn’t know that,” she said. “Is it very sad?”

  “So sad that I will need to offer you my handkerchief,” he quipped. “You will cry a river of tears.”

  “Merrifield, quit teasing Diana and get on with it,” Rachel chided.

  “All right. Are you ready for murder? Scandal? Betrayal? The supernatural?”

  With that, Lord Merrifield told her of what a scoundrel Don Giovanni was and the numerous situations in which he played the villain, ending it with him being taken to the depths of Hell as the other players go on with their lives.

  “It sounds frightening more than sad. If I’d have known how awful a rake Don Giovanni was, I might never have desired to come,” Diana said.

  Those intense blue eyes gazed steadily into hers. She should never have used the word desire in front of him for all it did was remind her how much she wanted him.

  This was madness. Her curiosity regarding what occurred between a man and a woman and their desire for one another had changed the course of her life. She couldn’t let her head be turned by this man, no matter how handsome or titled he was. Once he learned of what she’d done, how she’d yielded to temptation and made a mess of her life, he’d have nothing to do with her. She shouldn’t even be near him now, close enough to smell the clean, crisp scent of his skin and thinking of how she wished to glide her fingers up his arm and across his broad chest. She bit her lip, wishing she’d never agreed to come tonight.

  She must get a grip on her emotions. She must. She lowered her eyes—and found she couldn’t keep them to the ground. It was as if Lord Merrifield had cast a spell upon her and she burned with the need to look at him. Diana’s gaze rose to meet his.

  He smiled—and pressed a handkerchief into her hand.

  “Here, my lady. Now you are prepared for when you weep at Don Giovanni. Either from terror or sadness.”

  “Thank you,” she said, clasping the handkerchief in her fist, wishing she could bring it to her nose and inhale deeply of it. Of him.

  Bloody hell, she wanted to kiss this man.

  The carriage drew to a halt.

  “We’re here,” Lady Merrick said brightly, giving Diana a look that said she knew exactly what was going on in her carriage—and that she approved.

  They entered the theatre and went up a staircase to Lord Merrifield’s box. He made sure she was seated closest to the stage.

  “I don’t want you to miss one emotion that ripples across a single face,” he said.

  She chuckled. “I don’t see how I could. I’m so close I’m practically on stage myself. You have very good seats, my lord.”

  “It’s why Rachel likes me to invite her and Merrick to accompany me. Their box is much further back.”

  He took a seat behind her, so close that he could lean up and whisper in her ear.

  “I may tell you some of what’s going on if you don’t think it might distract you,” he said.

  “No, it won’t,” she lied. “I’d appreciate it.”

  Diana barely had time to glance around and see the others in attendance before the lights began to dim. Anticipation grew within her. For the upcoming performance.

  And what the rest of tonight might bring.

  Chapter Eight

  The curtain fell for intermission and Diana found she couldn’t move. She was in another world, another time and place, so far away from everything in London.

  “What do you think so far?” Lord Merrifield murmured in her ear, his lips lightly grazing her lobe, sending a shiver through her.

  “It’s indescribable. To hear and see such a moving story told through song. The voices of the singers sound like angels.” She frowned. “Don Giovanni is a nightmare of a man.”

  He leaned back. “Would you like to stretch your legs a bit?”

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  He assisted her to her feet and she saw Lord and Lady Merrick already standing.

  “I can tell from your face how much you’re enjoying Don Giovanni,” Rachel said. “Isn’t the woman portraying Donna Anna remarkable? She was here last year in another production. I think her range has grown even more since then.”

  Diana laughed. “I can barely carry a tune. I play the pianoforte adequately but don’t ever ask me to sing. If I did, cats would be yowling everywhere at the discordant sound coming from me.”

  They moved from the box into the corridor that linked to the other boxes and she strolled down it with Lord Merrifield, who’d tucked her hand through the crook of his arm. Touching him excited her. That alone told her it was not a good idea to do so. After this excursion to the opera, she would make sure not to see him until the Duke of Everton’s ball. She knew she couldn’t avoid him there and that he would most likely ask her to dance.

  It would probably be the first—and last—time they did so.

  “Diana? Is that truly you?” a voice called.

  She looked to her left, where a familiar face stared back at her, one she’d cherished. “Linda? My goodness, I haven’t seen you since you were twelve? Thirteen?”

  “Thirteen. You were twelve.” The woman smiled. “Good evening, Lord Merrifield.”

  “Lady Ashmore.”

  Linda said, “Diana and I are old friends. Our estates lay next to one another. My father died and my mother remarried when I was thirteen. We left for York and I never saw Diana again, until now.”

  “We tried to write,” Diana said. “It’s probably my fault. I was never much good with correspondence.”

  “The same here.” Linda looked back to Merrifield. “Would you mind if I stole Diana for a private word, my lord?”

  “Not at all.”

  Linda took her arm and pulled her several steps away from the others gathered and then said sternly, “Diana, what are you doing in London? I heard everything, you know. It will not go well for you here if you think to find a husband after what you did.”

  Her gut clinched. Thinking the words to herself was one thing. Hearing a treasured friend voice the sentiment aloud was much worse.

  “You think the gossip will follow me?” she asked, her head growing light.

  “It will. Not from me, of course,” Linda assured her hastily, “but there will be others among the ton that once they hear your name announced at the first event you attend, they will eviscerate you.”

  Diana blinked back tears. “I was afraid of that. Derek didn’t think so.”

  “Your brother has never been active during the Season.” Linda shook her head. “You never should have come. It was a mistake.”

  “I was afraid of that. As it is, we only have a few invitations. None of Derek’s friends have claimed their titles yet. He’s persuaded a few of his friends’ parents to issue us invitations. And Lady Merrick has been kind to me and seen we received a few more as well.”

  “Not to her brother’s opening ball?” Linda asked. “Everyone who is anyone goes to the Duke of Everton’s event. It will go badly for you, Diana. I’m warning you out of friendship. Don’t come.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her head high. “You shouldn’t speak with me anymore, Linda. I don’t wish to harm your reputation.”

  “That’s very decent of you.” Linda took her hand. “Go back to Northumberland, Diana. Find someone there if you think you must wed.”

  “Who? No one in society will have me. I was cut off from everyone there.”

  Linda’s eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t mean anyone titled, Diana. Maybe some doctor or steward might have you and your brats. If not, I suppose a farmer would do.” She nodded brusquely and stepped away.

  Tears stung Diana’s eyes to hear Finn and Mena referred to as brats. It was as she expected, though. She would tell Derek tomorrow when she saw him that she couldn’t do as he asked. It would ruin Thea’s chances next year if Diana were visible at any point of this Season. As it was, Thea still might have a difficult time trying to win a husband. Men might believe she was a tart like her sister and think they could take liberties with Thea without ever thinking to wed her.

  Diana wished a hole great enough to swallow her whole would open up.

  “Are you upset?” a familiar voice asked. “Did Lady Ashmore bring up something unpleasant?”

  She turned and saw Lord Merrifield standing there, his brow furrowed in concern.

  “No, not at all,” she lied. “I suppose I’m merely emotional, seeing Linda after so long a time. We were friends in our youths and it’s been over a dozen years since I last saw her.”

  “For your own good, I hope it’s a dozen more before you land eyes on her again,” he said. “Lady Ashmore is one of the most vicious gossips of the ton. She is most unpleasant to be around. My advice is to avoid your old friend at all costs.”

  His words were a sharp blow. Diana knew now that Linda would already be spreading gossip about her throughout the opera house. It reinforced her decision to end this farce before it ever began. She thought to plead a headache but didn’t want the Merricks to have to leave the opera early because of her. Diana decided to soldier on.

  “You look unwell,” he said. “I fear your old friend upset you more than you’re letting on.”

  She shrugged. “Words shouldn’t hurt—but they do.”

  “Sometimes more than actions,” he agreed. “Would you like to return home?”

  Diana did and yet she knew she’d never be at an opera again. Never sup afterward. Never be in this man’s company.

  “No, I prefer to remain and see the opera to its conclusion.”

  He took her hand and placed it on his sleeve. “You’re made of strong stuff, Lady Diana. Good for you. Leave and she claims victory. Stay—and it is yours.”

  His approval seemed like a victory to her as he accompanied her back to his box and seated her. Within minutes, the opera’s intermission ended and the curtain rose.

  Oliver knew Lady Ashmore lived in the north. She would have knowledge of Diana’s misfortune. He wondered what remarks the woman had made as he observed Diana watch the performance. Her posture was even more impeccable than before. He wondered if she even listened to the arias being sung. Her childhood friend’s words must have done more than sting. If Lady Ashmore had inflicted the damage she was legendary for, Diana must be hurting quite a bit now.

  He studied the back of her, that raven hair piled high on her head, leaving her beautiful swanlike neck exposed. Oliver wanting nothing more than to press his lips to the nape of her neck as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against him. He wanted to kiss away whatever hurt had been inflicted upon her.

  Turning to Rachel, who sat slightly behind him and to his left, he said quietly, “Lady Diana encountered Lady Ashmore, an old friend from her youth. It did not go well.”

  “That viper? Oh, poor Diana.”

  “I fear the woman may have eviscerated her.”

  “You must take care of her, Merrifield,” Rachel whispered. “Diana is a dear soul.”

  “I plan to,” he promised. “She’s The One.”

  He sensed Rachel still. She slid her hand to his and squeezed it. “I’m so happy you’ve found love.”

  Oliver turned back to the stage, his attention focused more on Diana than the story unfolding below them. He wouldn’t tell Rachel that he wasn’t in love. Let her believe what she wished. Rachel and Evan were that rare love match, a couple who’d truly found love that continued to grow. In Oliver’s experience, when someone spoke of love, what they meant was infatuation mixed with passion. That spark could end abruptly or fade until nothing remained.

  He believed he could have more with Diana de Wolfe.

 

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