Diana did not speak a word on the drive back, and she evaded Carshin’s aid when she climbed down from the carriage and entered the Trents’ house. She went straight to her room and flung off her hat and shawl, then curled up in the armchair before the fireplace and burst into violent tears.
Her confused emotions demanded such release, and it was some time before her sobs changed to sniffs and then silence. When she finally raised her head, breathing deeply, she felt better, though nothing had changed.
Diana stared at the floor and considered her situation. Though she would never marry Gerald Carshin, she dreaded the consequences. Despite her brave words to him, the thought of disgrace and her friends’ shock and disapproval made her shiver. She had only just become accustomed to the warmth and small gaieties of society, and now they were to be taken from her. She could retreat and live alone. She did not doubt that. The years in Yorkshire had taught her much about her limits and possibilities, and she knew that books and daily chores would provide a bare minimum for existence. The breath of scandal could not harm a solitary who asked nothing from society.
But she wanted more. Now that she had seen something of life, and been offered love, she resisted losing it with all her strength. The thought that she would never see Robert Wilton again made her throat ache anew. Yet, once he was told of her past… Diana clenched her hands in her lap and tensed as if preparing for a blow. There seemed no way out.
Diana’s helplessness brought back memories of that earlier time when she had been abandoned by Carshin. Then, too, it had seemed that the world was against her, that she was wholly alone. Yet help had materialized, she reminded herself, and luck had swung her way after misfortune. Straightening, Diana allowed herself a small grain of hope. She could not see a solution just now, but all was by no means lost. She would not give up, as Carshin no doubt wished she would.
With this tenuous optimism she rose and washed her face. As she dealt with the wisps of deep gold hair that had escaped from the knot on her neck, she realized that she was extremely hungry. She had eaten hardly any breakfast this morning in her worry.
Diana found the Trents just sitting down to a buffet luncheon in the dining room. Amanda looked radiant, and George seemed to have recovered somewhat from his disappointment.
“There you are,” said Amanda. “We were just about to send someone. What have you been doing this morning?”
“I went out driving.”
“With that fellow Carshin,” said George. It was not a question nor, quite, a criticism, but the major’s opinion was obvious.
“The man from the concert?” Amanda was surprised.
“Wilton seems to have left in a hurry,” added George, and Diana raised her eyes to find that he was watching her closely. This was so unlike him that she at once concluded Captain Wilton had confided his intentions. She flushed slightly and dropped her eyes.
“Was he here?” exclaimed Amanda. “And he did not even say hello.”
“You were not yet downstairs,” replied her husband. “Though I thought he meant to stay awhile.”
He was looking at her again, Diana knew. Misery descended on her once more. “I suppose he wished to get settled in his rooms after your journey,” Diana offered.
The major merely grunted, and Amanda looked from one to the other of them in puzzlement.
“Will you go for a drive this afternoon?” asked Diana quickly.
“Oh, yes.” Amanda smiled up at the major, who responded in kind. “To Sydney Gardens, I think. To see the flowers. You have walked there, haven’t you, Diana?”
Struck dumb by mention of the scene of her morning’s humiliation, Diana merely nodded. But she watched the Trents with a mixture of envy and sadness. They were so happy together. They’d experienced tragedies, but no dark secret hung over them. Despite the major’s infirmity and his recent disappointment, he gazed at Amanda with love and contentment. And Amanda seemed a different woman from the languid, dismal creature of yesterday. They would never truly understand, Diana thought, if they were told her story. They would feel pity and regret, but she would become an embarrassment for them. “Excuse me.” She pushed back her chair. “I believe I will go for a walk.”
“So soon after luncheon?” Amanda looked startled. “Won’t you sit with us a little first?”
Unable to form a polite excuse, Diana simply shook her head and hurried out. Amanda turned to her husband, frowning. “I wonder if something is wrong. Should I go after her?”
“No.” He hesitated. “Wilton loves her, you know.”
“I thought he did.” Amanda smiled happily.
“Told me on the way home that they were practically engaged.”
“Oh, George, that’s…”
But he held up a hand. “Think something’s gone wrong. Wilton didn’t say so, but I’m fairly certain he meant to settle things between them this morning. No reason to wait now. I expected to find them when I came down, and to hear the good news. Instead, Wilton’s gone off, and Diana sets out with this Carshin popinjay. Know anything about him?”
“Not really. He is a friend of Mr. Boynton’s. We met him at the concert. Lord Faring was there as well.”
“Wilton’s brother? Ha.” Major Trent fell into a brown study, his brow furrowed. “Can’t make it out,” he added after a while. “Wilton thought the thing was certain.”
“Perhaps he made a mistake? He may have taken something Diana said…”
“Not Wilton. He’s not that sort. Not one for the ladies, you know.” Trent shook his head again. “No, something’s amiss.”
Amanda looked distressed. “I must talk to Diana.”
“Do that. She won’t do much better than Wilton, you know.”
She nodded absently.
George stood. “Believe I’ll just stroll down to the Pump Room. See if there’s any news. I’ll be back soon.”
“In time for our drive.”
“Of course.”
Amanda saw him out with a smile, then walked slowly into the drawing room and sat down. She could not imagine that Diana admired Gerald Carshin. Indeed, she knew that Diana cared for Captain Wilton. What, then, was happening? She hoped that Diana’s walk would not be as lengthy as usual.
Diana, striding briskly along the high common, was no longer thinking of the Trents. She was trying not to think at all, in fact, for every line of thought led to unpleasant conclusions. She concentrated on the beauties of the budding June landscape and the pleasures of brisk movement. As always, walking was a relief.
It was impossible to keep her mind blank, however she strove to suppress its spinning. Recent events, and her dilemma, would surface, and then she would go round and round again, ending up at the same impasse. Carshin had the upper hand.
Diana paused to watch a group of children playing hide-and-seek among the trees. Then she moved on, walking in a great circle that brought her back to the Royal Crescent at midafternoon. The Trents were out, as she had calculated they would be, and she had the place to herself.
But she had no sooner entered the drawing room than she heard the front bell, then hurried steps on the stairs. She turned, to meet Robert Wilton in the doorway.
“I had to come back today,” he said. “I must talk to you.”
Diana’s heart turned over. He looked so handsome in his dark-blue coat, his thin face worried and intent. As for Wilton, he was more than worried. He had walked off his anger during the hours since he left the Trents’ house, and, as it faded, fear had risen to take its place. He had thought Diana his. Now it seemed he might be losing her, and the idea was unbearable. Old insecurities arose when he considered his apparent rival, for Carshin was a town beau, his dress and manners those of the haut ton. Captain Wilton was accustomed to being thrust aside for such men. It had happened repeatedly in London. And, though he had thought Diana different, her behavior this morning had shaken his opinion as well as his certainty of her affection for him. His first impulse—to throttle Gerald Carshin—was clearly unacceptable, but he had little faith in talk, his only recourse.
Now that he faced Diana again, no words came. He simply gazed at her, his blue eyes questioning.
“I…I am sorry about this morning,” she murmured, looking down. What explanation could she possibly give him?
“It did seem…odd,” he replied. “I very much wanted to talk to you.”
“I know. I…” She searched for words.
“When we spoke before I left Bath, I thought…” He retreated a bit. “But I have been too precipitate. I have assumed things I had no right to assume. You must put it down to my deep feelings for you. And I hope you will forgive any—”
This was too much. “There is nothing to forgive!”
“No?” He bent to try to see her face. “Well, I am glad of that.” Wilton paused, hoping she would volunteer some explanation of her actions. When she did not, he added, “This Carshin, you have known him for some time?”
Diana looked swiftly up, then down again. “Amanda told you?”
“No, my brother. Carshin is one of his friends, you know, and I inquired when I saw Faring in the Pump Room today. It…was important to me.”
“We met years ago. We have not seen each other since,” she replied. Her heart was pounding, and she felt again like a trapped animal, beating on the doors of her cage, desperate for a way out. Diana wanted nothing more than to tell Wilton everything and throw herself into his arms. But she did not dare. She searched for a way to reassure him of her love without revealing the truth.
“Ah. He is very elegant, I suppose. Faring says the ton finds him charming.” How his brother had enjoyed giving him this information, Wilton thought. His own fears must have been obvious, and Faring had always reveled in a superior position.
“Really?” Diana strove to sound blandly surprised. “That seems a bit strong.”
“You do not?”
“No.”
“Yet you were very eager to drive out with him this morning.”
“I wasn’t. I…I had said I would, and…”
“It appeared that he only then asked you.”
Near tears, Diana turned away.
“Miss Gresham. Diana!” He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her back again. “You will say I have no right to interrogate you so, but—”
She shook her head. “It is not that. It is that I cannot answer you.” And she began to cry.
At once he pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder, a hand in her gold hair. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Diana had never felt so comforted. His arms around her, his voice in her ear, were an exquisite relief. For a few moments it was as if all her cares were lifted from her shoulders. But, as her tears lessened, the necessity to explain once again arose, and she pulled back.
Wilton offered his handkerchief, and she took it to wipe her eyes.
“Let us forget the whole matter,” he said then. “I care less than nothing for Carshin, unless you do.”
Diana shook her head again, miserably.
He smiled, his face lighting. “Well, then.” He reached for her again, putting his hands on her upper arms. “You know how I feel. I have told you that I love you and want you for my wife. Now that my future is more settled, will you not give me your answer?”
She gazed up at him through tear-filled eyes.
“I should tell you that I have some little income besides my army pay. I had thought to retain my commission, but, if you would prefer another sort of life, I am not averse. My war service is ended, in any case. I have a small estate in—”
“Stop!” Diana could not bear to hear him reciting his prospects, as if she were to judge him by such standards.
He waited, then added, “Will you not say something?”
She must, Diana thought, but she could not think what. She could neither accept nor refuse him—the first because of Carshin, and the second because she loved him dearly. The only proper course was to tell him her history, and that she was afraid to do. “I want to marry you,” she stammered, and, before she could go on, she was in his arms again.
For Wilton, all doubts and fears were swept away by that phrase. The terrible worry that she was lost to him dissolved, leaving in its wake such happiness as he had never known. His life opened out before him in myriad scenes of bliss: Diana in his arms, their children, their home together. He kissed her with a mixture of exuberance and passion.
Diana resisted halfheartedly for a moment. She had meant to go on. But her love for him soon won out, and she gave herself to the embrace. Her whole self seemed to rise up to meet his, and her arms slid automatically around his neck. It was some time before she even realized that the obstacles she had felt before were gone. The reappearance of Gerald Carshin, and his despicable behavior, had expunged him from her happy memories. No longer did his image intrude as Diana responded more and more eagerly to her love’s caresses. She was free of the past at last.
But this very realization made her draw away, for she was not, in fact, truly free.
Wilton let her move only a little. His arms stayed about her waist as he laughed down at her, his eyes warm with love and desire. “We can announce our engagement at once. You must come to London to meet my mother. And there is no reason to delay the wedding beyond a month or so, is there? Oh, Diana, we shall be so—”
“No!”
He stood very still, looking down at her. “What?”
“I cannot marry you. That is…I…”
“Did you not say that you wished to?”
“Yes, but…there are things which prevent…”
This was the moment to tell him, Diana thought. Perhaps she was mistaken; perhaps he would pass it off as unimportant now and feel just the same about her. But, as she met his pained, puzzled eyes, she felt a shiver of fear. If the love there should change to withdrawal, she could not bear it.
“Has this something to do with Carshin?” he asked very quietly, his face growing hard.
Seeing it, Diana quailed. “Why do you…?”
“There is nothing else it could be. Our situation remains the same, save for him.” Captain Wilton’s expression became almost grim, and Diana concluded that she had been right to hold back her story. But he was thinking only of the man who appeared to be preventing their happiness. Diana had never seen this side of Robert Wilton’s character, for she had never seen him at war. Though she knew, of course, that he was a soldier and had fought for most of his adult life, this conveyed little to one who had no experience of battle. Her own fears led her to misinterpret his determination as disapproval, and she moved farther away.
Wilton let her. Indeed, he seemed withdrawn, his gaze inward. Diana almost cried out to him, terrified that she had lost him. In fact, he was merely shifting to another mode of thought, one he had never used in a drawing room before. He was sizing up Gerald Carshin as he would have a French army camped before his lines, examining his apparent weaknesses and planning a campaign. There was no question in the captain’s mind that he would win, but, since he was a first-rate soldier, he left nothing to chance.
“It…it is not exactly Carshin,” blurted Diana. “It is me. Or, at least, both, in a way.” She would tell him, she decided. Nothing could be worse than the way he looked through her now. She had to.
But Wilton brushed her efforts aside, engrossed in his plans. He needed more information, he thought, and at once. He could not move without better intelligence. And Diana was not the best source at this stage. Wilton straightened. “I must go.”
“Now? I want to tell you…”
He smiled at her, and ran a finger down her cheek. “Everything will be all right. You needn’t worry.”
“No, I need to tell you.”
“I shall take care of it.”
She could not imagine what he meant, or what he planned to do. “You don’t understand,” she answered.
“I understand enough.”
He didn’t. He couldn’t.
Abruptly he pulled her close again and kissed her, thoroughly but quickly. Then he stepped away and smiled again, almost jaunty. “Don’t worry,” he repeated, and, with a sketch of a salute, he went out.
Diana, mystified, ran to the window and watched him move away along the street. Where was he going? To Carshin? She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Surely not, for he had looked almost happy. She should run after him, but he was going very fast. He passed around the corner and was gone. Diana went to the sofa and sank down, head in hands.