Chapter Fourteen

"I shall claw her eyes out!"  Diana was practically beside her herself with rage - something that frightened her a great deal.  She was never angry.  Or at least not this angry.

From her position in the far corner of Felton's ballroom, Diana, along with Eliza and Sophia, could see the object of Diana's ire - Lady Claire McKenna, Viscountess Gladston, practically draped over Lachlan's arm and well onto his chest.  Much like Diana's sister-in-law Patience was draped over Lord Selby, much to Sophia's dismay.  Apparently the lusty woman had decided against pursuing Lord Fontaine - what with his French title being somewhat suspect anyway - and had decided that seducing Lord Selby into bed and possibly giving her husband another bastard child was the wiser course of action.

"Or we could push them both over the balcony and simply be done with it."  That came from Sophia, making her friends gasp.  It was a true measure of how upset Sophia was that she would even consider such an action, let alone speak of it.

"Really, Diana, Oliver must do something about his wife," Eliza whispered behind her fan, trying not to attract any more attention than the little group already was.  "And you will not claw out Lady Gladston's eyes."  Diana huffed in unchecked anger in response.  "You can clearly see that neither of the men are enjoying themselves."

Upon closer study, Diana supposed her friend was correct.  Lord Selby kept looking longingly at the punch bowl that was set up across the room, while Lachlan scowled, his handsome features now more like slashes of violent anger upon his face.  The women were another matter altogether, seemingly enjoying each moment they were spending in the men's company.  To the women at least, this night was the very picture of romance.

In truth, the setting was lovely and utterly romantic.  Lady Felton, the wife of a lower viscount but a rather noted hostess, had truly outdone herself this evening.  Thousands of candles were scattered about the room, which had been decorated with soft pink silk panels.  Footmen were stationed behind them, fanning the sheer panels so that they appeared to float and flutter in the night breeze.  High above still more candles with flickering flames danced in the enormous chandelier that hung over the grand ballroom.

Each corner of the room featured a refreshment table of some sort, offering everything from candied fruits to more varieties of sweetmeats than Diana could remember seeing in one place before.  Another corner offered puddings and punch while yet another had biscuits and assorted drinks, everything from raspberry shrub and negus, to claret and even chocolate.  The small orchestra that had been set up in the corner was taking a break at the moment, but that did not prevent some couples from swaying in time to music only they could hear.

The entire scene was perfect for seduction, at least if one was so inclined.  

Until this very moment, Diana had been toying with the idea of seducing Lachlan.  She could not stop thinking about the night at Vauxhall, how her body had come alive under his skillful touch.  She craved more - of him, of the passion, of everything.  She craved it so much that she could think of little else and had been so distracted by thoughts of what they might do together that even her mother had remarked upon her odd state.

Diana knew her mother would have liked to believe that Lord Hathaway was the reason for her daughter's strange behavior but even Ursula Saintwood was not so naïve that she did not realize that the Marquess of Hallstone was the man behind Diana's smiles.  Even Diana's father had remarked upon it.  Which led her to one unavoidable and rather wonderful conclusion - she was in love.

After so many years of allowing life to pass her by, Diana had taken command of her life and, in the process, she had fallen in love.  With Lachlan.

She could not imagine a future without him by her side, even though he truly believed himself unworthy of her.  He desired her and she had no doubt that he would be selfish enough to wed her if the opportunity arose, but in his heart, he did not believe he was worthy of her.  He could not completely let go of his past, of the man he had once been back in Scotland.

Except that he was worthy.  She simply needed to convince him.  And the only way she knew to do that was to seduce him.  Which was precisely what she had planned to do this evening.

That, however, was before Lady Felton had introduced Diana to the exceptionally lovely and utterly sophisticated Lady Claire Gladston.

Diana knew she was pretty.  She had been raised in society, after all.  She was also not blind to the way men stared at her when they thought Lord Hathaway was not looking.  Or Lord Hallstone at the moment.  She was relatively savvy and sophisticated, but she was not so foolish as to ignore the one trait that Claire possessed that Diana herself did not.

Sensuality.

Perhaps it would be better to term it sexuality.  Diana did not know.  What she did know was that there was a raw power in Claire, an ability to draw men to her like bees to honey, that Diana did not have.

In truth, she had never needed it.  After all, it was assumed that she would marry Lord Hathaway.  What need was there to attract other men?  That was before Lachlan, however, and now, given the way that the other woman was draped languidly around the man Diana wanted for her own, she suddenly found that it mattered a great deal.

In fact, it mattered more than anything else ever had.

In that moment, something indefinable broke within Diana, a desire so great that it nearly overwhelmed her.  It was the desire to possess Lachlan, to stake her claim to him.  No matter that young ladies of good and proper breeding were taught to wait for men to come to them.

Diana was tired of waiting.  Waiting had obtained her precisely one thing in her life - nothing.

Tonight, watching Claire flaunt herself around Lachlan, Diana knew she had finally endured enough of sitting by in her life and allowing actions to simply flow around her.  Inaction had landed her in her present situation regarding Lord Hathaway.  She could speak up for others, but not herself.  It was time to change that.  She refused to allow inaction to cost her Lachlan as well.

"If they wish to be saved from those ladies," Diana announced, holding her head high, "then I believe we should be the ones to save them."  She looked at her friends.  "Are you ladies with me?"  Both Sophia and Eliza nodded in agreement, even though only one of them had a vested interest in separating the ladies of questionable morals from the men they were with.

As delicately as she could, Diana began picking her way around the edges of the ballroom towards the small alcove where the two couples were ensconced.  She had only taken but four steps when a shadow fell across her path, one looming large in the dancing light cast by the candles.

"Lord Hathaway."  Diana curtsied at his bow.  "If you will excuse us, your sister, Lady Eliza and I were just on our way to the retiring room."

He looked at his sister and in an instant, Sophia seemed to retreat back into herself a bit.  "Sophia and Lady Eliza may go on, but you can catch up with them later."  He snagged the dance card that Diana had forgotten was still around her wrist and wrote in his name next to a dance.  A waltz.  This waltz to be precise.  "I believe you have promised this set to me."  Then before she could utter one word of protest, he was sweeping her out onto the floor and away from Lachlan.

Once they had settled into the dance, Diana took a few moments to gather her wits.  She did not enjoy being thwarted - especially by this man.  He was a beautiful dancer.  She would allow him that much.  But Hathaway was not Lachlan.  The duke did not make her feel alive the way the half Scottish marquess did.

He was handsome.  She would grant him that too, with a fine physique that any man would envy.  One most likely honed by hours at Gentleman Jackson's.  In his black evening clothes, with his thick hair and dancing eyes, he was every woman's dream.  Just not hers.  Not any longer.  And she needed to make him understand that.

Finally, Hathaway seemed to have endured enough of their silence and spoke first, seeming to know that Diana would not give him the satisfaction of doing so. "Am I really that odious to you, my lady, that you cannot even consider the possibility of becoming my bride?" he asked as they swirled about the room.  He kept his voice low so that there was little risk of anyone overhearing them.  "Have your feelings for me changed so much that you will not allow me to win you back?"

Diana sighed and fought the urge to shake her head.  If she did, the assembled crowd would certainly know something was amiss.  But really, was the man truly that dense?  She assumed he must be.  "That assumes I ever had feelings for you, your grace.  In truth, I am not certain that I ever did.  Rather, I was told what I should feel so often that I believed that I did truly care for you."

The duke studied her for a moment, obviously taking in her garnet gown, one that was far darker than a unmarried lady should wear to such a ball.  However, when Diana had dressed that evening, she had done so with a mind to seducing Lachlan rather than what was proper and appropriate for a ball.  Let alone considering what the duke might think.  "So you never cared for me?"  This seemed to truly puzzle him, as if he had never considered the possibility.  "But I cared for you."

"Did you?" she asked quietly.  "Or do you now think that you did simply because I am no longer within your grasp at a moment's notice?  It has been said that a man often does not want something that is already his until another takes it from him."  She smiled as prettily as she was able.  "You did not want me.  You did not want to court me until Lord Hallstone showed an interest."

"That is not true!" he protested a bit loudly before lowing his voice back to a more appropriate whisper.  "All of my life I have known that we would wed one day.  I might not have shown you preference, but it was understood.  It wasn't as if either of us was in a rush to set a date."

"Then why did you inform Lord Radcliffe otherwise at his Crystal Ball?" she challenged gently.  "He was not the only one that heard your declaration, either."  She looked back to the alcove but Lachlan and Claire were gone.  Diana felt sick to her stomach, but she continued on.  She finally had an opportunity to speak candidly with Hathaway.  She might not get another chance.  "Why make a fool of yourself over Miss Banbrook?  Why would you have waited until I was almost on the shelf and nearly past the age when I might provide you with an heir?  If I meant that much to you, your grace, you would not have done those things."  She bit her lip for a moment before continuing.  "Just as I would not have fallen in love with Lord Hallstone."

At first, she thought that Hathaway might refute her words, given the way his eyes were blazing.  Then finally, he sighed, the tension seeming to leave him, though his eyes remained hard.  "That man is not for you.  He is a libertine.  Worse, he is Scottish!"

"And that is for me to decide.  My family as well.  Not you."  Diana followed him as he pulled her into a turn.  "You did not want me, Adam, until another man did."  His eyes snapped to hers at her use of his Christian name.  Good.  She had wanted to shock him.  "That is not love.  That is being selfish."

"And if I told you that I had changed my mind?  That I have decided that I love you madly and must possess you completely?"  His voice had a roughness to it, but she did not fear him.  Despite Sophia's fear, her brother was, at his heart, a good man.  He would not compromise Diana and she well knew it.  Much like Lachlan, he did not have that sort of malice within him.

"I would counter that you are perhaps worried more about your reputation than you are in love with me.  That is the sole reason why you wish to win me back and wed me, to quote your sister."  Diana smiled a little.  "It is not because you love me, your grace.  It is because you wish to save face."  Then she sighed.  "And if I have learned nothing else over these last few days, it is that we all deserve love if we can obtain it."

Diana was not so fanciful as to believe that all in society would make a love match or that it was even possible.  That was not the way of their world.  However, that did not mean that she did not believe in love matches either.  She did.  It was the only explanation for her desire for Lachlan - she was in love with him.

"You would do well to give your sister what she wants or at least give her a better reason why she should not follow her heart."  Diana saw no reason not to press Sophia's case as well as her own at the moment.  The man did appear to be listening.

Hathaway frowned.  "You mean Lord Selby.  He is not good enough for her."

"She is your sister, so therefore, in your eyes at least, no man would be," Diana reasoned.  "Sophia loves him and he adores her.  They are a love match.  Let them be happy."

"You speak of love as if it has power over all things, means more than marriages of political gain, ones made to secure power and wealth."  The duke scrutinized her closely.  "In my estimation, that is not logical.  It is not the way of our society."

"Perhaps it should be," she countered gently, fearing that she might never be able to reason with him.  "I have lived my life waiting for you to wed me, Adam," she challenged, "and I have done nothing but grow old.  I have not taken carriage rides or walks in the park.  There have been no outings to Gunter's or waltzes in the near darkness that make my knees weak.  Not until Lord Hallstone, that is.  And I have had a taste of the wonder of those things, just as Sophia has with Lord Selby.  To demand that either of us give up those things when we have only just discovered them is beyond cruel.  And I do not believe you to be a cruel man.  Stubborn, perhaps, but not cruel."  It was the most impassioned plea that Diana could make and for a moment, she saw a softness creep over the duke's eyes.  For a moment, she believed that she had somehow managed to reach into his notoriously cold heart and find the man beneath.  She prayed that she was not wrong.

"Go then," Hathaway whispered as the waltz ended, confirming, for her anyway, that she had somehow managed to reach even a small part of him.  "Find your marquess, Diana, if that is what you truly desire."  He glanced over to a far corner where Phoebe Banbrook was now cozying up to Lord Fontaine, the French count looking decidedly ill at the prospect of being cornered by the woman.  "However, if you should change your mind, I will be here.  I will take you back.  We could be good together, though it is unlikely that we would ever have the love match you seem to so desire," he admitted.

"Thank you, your grace."  Diana knew that the man did not want to admit defeat, but he had also clearly realized that he could not and would not force her into a relationship with him that she did not want.

His gaze strayed to Phoebe once more, which made Diana think that perhaps there was a reason he had been pulled towards the not-so-innocent country mouse in the first place.  Perhaps his heart knew something that his head refused to acknowledge.  "We could have been a powerful force together, you and I."  The duke smiled, and this time, Diana knew he was truly letting her go.  "If you change your mind...."

"I won't," she assured him and then turned to make her way back into the crowd that flowed along the edges of the ballroom like a river.  Hathaway watched her depart for a moment before turning and making his own way into the sea of humanity, roughly in a direction that would take him right into the path of one Miss Phoebe Banbrook.

Lachlan wanted to smash something, perhaps his fist through a wall, though he doubted his hosts for the evening would approve.  He also forced himself to remember that was precisely the sort of behavior his father would expect from him.  Behavior his father would no doubt hear about from Claire.  She was eagerly awaiting the moment when Lachlan would forget himself and slide back into old behaviors and patterns, anything she could use to force him into returning to Scotland.  Or, more likely, force him directly to her bed.  He wasn't certain which she would prefer more.  Given her rumored sexual appetites, probably her bed.

His witch of a stepmother, bedecked in the finest gowns that money could buy and dripping with so many jewels that she was practically vulgar in appearance, had been waiting to pounce on him the moment he walked into the Felton's town home.  He might not have known before how truly vulgar and low such a woman was, but he knew it now.  After Diana.  A woman who was everything that Claire was not.  She was so much better.

Lachlan had known his stepmother would be in attendance that evening, word arriving at his own town home earlier that day from Lord Candlewood, along with a few select tidbits about what the witch was seeking.  According to Candlewood's information, Claire had many people back in the Highlands convinced that she was presently with child and she had teased that the child might not be Lord Gladston's.  There had even been rumors that it might be Lachlan's bastard.  Of course.  He would expect nothing less from so despicable of a woman.

However, as he had been gone from Scotland for some months now and Lady Gladston was showing no signs of increasing, making some, including the crofters on McKenna lands, wonder if the woman had been lying.  It also made them wonder about her designs on the laird's son.  For a woman like his stepmother, doubt in those you considered beneath you was never a good thing.

As Claire was not particularly beloved in the Highlands and had tried and failed to corner at least two other wealthy noblemen into marriage, her reputation was even more quickly falling into tatters with the rumor that she might not truly be in a delicate condition.  Once the laird passed on and Lachlan became the new viscount, it was also believed that Claire was afraid of being pushed to the side.  There would be a new viscountess, for word had already reached Scotland about Lachlan's infatuation with Lady Diana.  Word had also somehow leaked out that Lachlan planned to fully assume the Hallstone title, leaving his cousin Alistair to serve as the McKenna laird in his stead.  It was an unusual move, true, but then, Alistair was fully Scottish while Lachlan was not.  In the eyes of many of the crofters, it made a difference.  This way, they could remain loyal to the McKenna clan without having to doubt their laird's loyalty to them in return.

Candlewood also believed that Claire was in London to try to trap Lachlan into getting her with child and then, when his father passed, taking her as his wife so that he might claim his previously bastard child.  It was a complex and complicated web, according to the duke, but Candlewood also felt that Lachlan would be able to avoid any traps Claire laid for him if he had enough information.  And a wife.  Candlewood had made certain Lachlan paid full attention to that last part.  If he was already married, Lachlan could avoid just about whatever snare Claire set out to entrap him in.

So when Claire had cornered Lachlan moments after he had been announced at the Felton's ball, he was more than ready to deal with her.  As the Marquess of Hallstone - and even just as himself - Lachlan had an army of friends, most of them already married, ready to take the troublesome woman off his hands long enough so that he might reach Diana and warn her.  And if Diana - once he located her, of course - was willing to indulge in other, far more pleasurable things?  He would not object.  In fact, he rather hoped she would be amenable to the idea.

For Lachlan had already decided that he could not live without Diana as his wife any longer, especially after his chat with Covington earlier in the day.  Lachlan wanted her, all of her.  Forever.  He wanted her to be his wife.  He understood that she had just been given her freedom after so long of being bound to Hathaway, but he could not help himself.  He was a selfish man and he wanted her for his own.  That was one part of him that he found he could not change.  Lachlan was selfish where his heart was concerned and most likely always would be.

Tonight he planned to ask Diana to marry him, or at least consider a formal betrothal, even if it was a lengthy one.  Then, once he was assured of her desire to wed, he would officially ask her father for her hand.  They might not wed immediately, but if they were publicly betrothed?  Then Claire could cause no further trouble, not wanting to risk damage to her own reputation.  Or so Lachlan hoped.

However as the best-laid plans often do, things had gone slightly amiss.  Radcliffe had been waylaid by Lord Weatherby who had, in the ensuing days, had the increasingly troublesome Miss Phoebe Banbrook foisted upon him and his wife Amelia by his mother-in-law.  Lady Hollinworth could no longer control the chit, and it was felt that perhaps the icy earl and his new wife might be of some assistance in that regard.

Lachlan's back up plan, in the form of Lord Candlewood, simply had not appeared at the Felton's at all, though that was not entirely surprising.  The duke was known to appear when and where he pleased with no one to gainsay him.  Then again, he was the Bloody Duke, so few were willing to risk his wrath by questioning him.

That left Lachlan to deal with Claire on his own for a time and she was, unfortunately, even more determined to get a child with him than he had imagined.  She had all but undone the fall on his pants in the middle of the ballroom, and had it not been for a sharp comment from Lady Caroline Cheltenham, the Viscountess Breckenright, about proper behavior for a lady of Claire's social position, Lachlan was not completely certain that Claire would not have attempted to mount him then and there in front of everyone.

A few moments later, when Miss Phoebe Banbrook had appeared with the Comte de La Croix in tow, the evening had taken a decidedly ugly turn.  For Weatherby had been correct in his assessment that the young chit was an uncontrolled menace, despite her earlier claims of innocence and sweetness.  At that moment in time, Miss Banbrook was practically undressing the poor count in the middle of the ballroom, her breasts nearly falling out of her too-small gown and her behavior just this side of scandalous.

All of that Lachlan could have borne, however, his anger well in check, even though it was growing exponentially with each caress Claire gave his arm and each lewd comment she made about the size of his cock when she thought no one could hear.

Then, Lachlan had glanced across the dance floor and his heart had almost literally stopped while his anger became a full blown, mind-numbing rage.  A rage so fierce that his vision blurred and the edges of his sight went black, the blood pounding in his ears until he could not longer think or hear.  There, dancing a slow and scandalous waltz was Diana.  And she was in the arms of Hathaway.  Worse, they were talking.  Worse still, she was smiling.  Smiling!  At the duke!  It could not be!

It was all he could do not to stalk out into the middle of the floor and pull Diana from the duke's arms, staking his claim to her once and for all.  His ancestors would have done that and more, certainly.  They simply would have thrown her over their shoulder and been done with it, stalking off into the night and making haste for Gretna as quickly as a coach and four could take them.  Or rather his father's ancestors would have.  But Lachlan was still more his mother's son than he was his father's and somehow, he managed to keep his anger in check - the way a true gentleman would.

Even though he still very much wanted to destroy something.

Instead, he had drawn in a deep breath and called upon every lesson in courtly behavior that his mother had drilled into him.  He remembered her gentle lectures about how a true English gentleman behaved, and how that his father was not a good example of proper behavior.  Lachlan knew that his mother had tried to change, or at the very least tame, his father.  It had not worked.  But those lessons had taken hold in her son.

Then, with a grace that he hoped would make the long-revered Hallstone name proud, he escorted Claire - who thought for one brilliant moment that she was going to Lachlan's bed - over to Lord Marcus Cheltenham, the notoriously grumpy Viscount Breckenright, and his wife.  The very same wife whose sharp tongue had delivered the set-down to Claire earlier.

Lachlan had not known Marcus long, though they had met in Bath while the viscount was convalescing from a long illness.  Until this season, he had never met Lady Breckenright at all, though that was not surprising, given what he had learned of their rather long and tumultuous courtship.  And with all of the lessons in propriety well learned at his mother's knee, Lachlan had left his stepmother in their care, and she unable to extricate herself without looking as if she was chasing after her young, unmarried stepson.

He would have liked to have helped the young French count as well, but when Lachlan glanced back, the man was gone.  Not to mention that he did have more pressing matters.  Except that Diana and Lord Hathaway were gone as well.

Rage, thick and black as anything he had ever felt began to cloud Lachlan's mind, preventing him from thinking clearly.  Anger unlike any he had ever known rose up in him and threatened to overtake him, dictating his actions.  He even felt his hands clench into fists until he noticed that Hathaway had appeared again, this time by the side of Miss Banbrook, who was looking decidedly embarrassed about something.  Then, the duke led her away onto the terrace when few, if any, people were looking.

Except Lachlan had been looking.  And if the duke was in Miss Banbrook's company, then he wasn't with Diana.

The fearsome anger lifting a bit, Lachlan quickly scanned the crowd, attempting to mimic Candlewood's air of disinterest as he did so and failing miserably.  He could not help himself.  He wanted to see her.  He needed her in a way he had never needed another woman in his entire life.  However, he still refused to call what he felt for her love.  That was another lesson that he had learned at his mother's knee.

Love hurt.  Love corrupted.  Therefore, he did not love.

So while he did not love Diana, he did need her.  More than that, he wanted her.  And tonight, he would have her, this desire she inflamed in him burning so hot that he thought he might die of it.

No more waiting.  No more courting.  After tonight, she would be his.  Despite what he had vowed earlier that day, the rage that had overwhelmed him when he had seen the duke and Diana dancing had driven home the point that she was meant to be his.  He needed her by his side.  Now.  For always.  If she wanted to be courted further, then he would indulge her.  But it was time she came to realize just how desperate he was for her and how perfect they were for each other.  That meant taking her to his bed - if she would allow it.

Just when he had about given up hope of ever finding her in the crush, he spied the garnet silk of her gown, a flash of color in a sea of pastels, calling to him like the siren she was.

As quickly as he could, he crossed the room so that when she made her way down the hallway, he was there beside her before she could even blink.  "Go find your friends once we arrived downstairs and have them make your excuses to your mother.  Have them inform her that you are spending the night at their house or some such nonsense.  Whatever lie it is, I do not care.  Just know that you are coming home with me.  I cannot bear to be apart from you any longer.  The other night at Vauxhall was merely the appetizer, my love.  Now I want the full meal."  Then he grasped her hand and tugged her down the hall towards the stairs that would led them down to the grand entryway and from there, to his carriage.  He noticed she did not protest.

Diana knew she should stop Lachlan.  This was madness.  More than that, it was not like him.  He did not behave this way, as if the whole of bad behavior of his Scottish ancestors was guiding his actions.

However there was a part of her that was thrilled by his actions, by the way he took possession of her, demanding that she come with him right that very minute and assuming that she would follow.  No man of her acquaintance acted thus, and it excited a part of her that she had never acknowledged before.  It was one she knew she needed to come to terms with and quickly.  For the truth was, now that she had come to peace with Lord Hathaway, she had also come to terms with her feelings for Lachlan.

Diana loved him.  Utterly and completely.  She wanted to be his.  And while she did not know what inside of him had changed, she was not about to question it either.  This was Lachlan embracing both parts of himself, the English marquess and the wild Scottish laird.  In this moment, he was a new man, one she had not had the pleasure of meeting before.  However she suspected she would like everything about him.  She would like it very much.

So without another word and only a few hastily dashed lines to her friends on scraps of parchment, Diana followed Lachlan out into the inky dark night and directly into his waiting carriage, not giving a damn if anyone saw them or ran back to her mother to tell tales.  Diana was about to thoroughly ruined and she could not wait!