Still torn about what to do, Arthur froze when her heard suddenly turned in his direction and their eyes met.
Chapter Six − An Unusual Woman
The whole carriage ride to the theatre Diana’s heart had thumped in her chest as her mind had screamed at her to return home. And yet, she couldn’t.
Despite the fact that her muscles were tense, her palms moist and her legs trembled, she couldn’t turn back now. For the first time in years, she felt…alive.
Although her stomach twisted and turned, her heart was beating excitedly in her chest, and her pulse was dancing under her skin.
This was life!
If there was no way for her to follow society’s rules and feel alive at the same time−experience had taught her that there truly wasn’t−then Diana decided she’d rather break them than spend the rest of her days with that dull ache in her heart.
The moment she stepped into the foyer of the theatre, her heart stopped as she expected the full force of society’s disapproval to fall on her like a pack of wolves. However, a moment later she shook her head, laughing, as she remembered that the performance had already begun.
There was simply no one about.
Here she was, a young widow, dressed in a scandalous dress, and there was no one to see it. What a shame!
Hastening up the stairs, Diana couldn’t help but wonder what would happen once she appeared in Lord Norwoord’s box. Would everyone stare? Would they whisper? Would the performance stop?
Excited, and yet, terrified to her core, Diana rushed on, taking one step at a time, until her gaze fell on a dark-haired man, half-hidden behind one of the large stone columns that supported the massive roof.
Although he did look surprised to see her, the expression in his eyes spoke neither of disapproval nor outrage. Rather it was a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
Intrigued, Diana held his questioning gaze before her feet−as though following their own path−turned away from the corridor that led to Lord Norwood’s box and toward the half-hidden gentleman. As he saw her approach, his eyes widened and he took a step back, his gaze quickly surveying their surroundings as though looking for a way to escape.
Had he recognised her? Diana wondered. Did he know that rumour and gossip and scandal followed in her wake? Did he now fear for his own reputation?
With a wicked gleam in her eyes and a touch of devilish delight in her heart, Diana ignored the small voice of reason somewhere in the back of her head, yelling at her to be careful at the top of its lungs.
Not today.
Today, she wanted to enjoy herself.
“Good evening, my lord,” she greeted him, delighted with the way his sharp, grey eyes narrowed as they seemed to search her face. For what she did not know. “Would you be so kind as to escort me to Lord Norwood’s box?”
He swallowed, and his gaze abandoned their search and focused on hers. “To be frank, I am confused.”
“Confused?” Diana echoed, feeling that very feeling spread through her being. Indeed, she had expected him to comply without argument, hoping to rid himself of her as quickly as possible, or to refuse outright, informing her in harsh words of the despicable behaviour she portrayed. However, the man before her looked neither embarrassed nor outraged, which indeed was confusing. For even if he hadn’t recognised her, her behaviour alone should speak volumes. After all, she was alone at the theatre, unchaperoned, speaking to a man she had never met before.
Or had she?
Squinting her eyes, Diana tried to recall where she had seen his face before when suddenly Lady Eleanor’s voice echoed in her mind, My name is Eleanor Abbott. I’m Lord Stanhope’s sister.
Indeed, they had the same watchfulness to their eyes.
“Although your behaviour is ill-advised,” Lord Stanhope began, a clear reproach in his voice now, “you do appear in possession of your faculties.”
Annoyed with his tone, Diana glared at him. “Well, thank you for such a heart-felt compliment, my lord.”
For a short moment, he seemed taken aback with her retort as though he had never before exchanged harsh words with a woman. “I apologise for upsetting your sensibilities. However−”
“My sensibilities?” Diana laughed. It had been a long time since anyone had been concerned about her like this. This man was truly entertaining!
Again, his brows drew down into a speculative frown. “What I meant to say was that I cannot fathom why you would act the way you do.” He shook his head as though the thought of something not following the path of logic had never occurred to him. “I cannot think of a single reasonable explanation for your presence here,” his gaze dropped from hers and took in the deep violet of her dress, “and in such a gown no less.”
“Quite frankly, my lord, I’m not certain if I should take this as a compliment or an insult,” Diana replied, surprised how much she enjoyed their conversation. After all, it had been years since she had exchanged even a single word with a man whom she would not consider family. It was exciting, and she noticed the trail of goose bumps running up and down her arms.
“It was meant as neither,” he assured her. “I simply find myself wondering about your motivation. You are aware of the repercussions should anyone see you here like this, are you not?”
Diana drew in a deep breath, slightly annoyed with the turn their conversation had taken. “Yes, my lord, I assure you I know very well what people will think. After all, I’ve spent the past four years paying for a minor indiscretion.”
At the defeated tone in her voice, Lord Stanhope’s eyes narrowed and he inhaled deeply, his gaze still trained on her, still watchful, enquiring. “I am aware of that.”
Although he spoke calmly, Diana could detect a touch of compassion in his voice. Holding his gaze, she wondered why he would speak to her like this. “I admit I am surprised that you would speak to me so directly, my lord. Few people would.”
“I suppose that’s true. However, I’ve always despised gossip. It serves no purpose other than distorting the truth.” He nodded at her encouragingly. “Do not worry. I shall not breathe of word of this to anyone.”
For a second, Diana felt as though she would break out into hysterical laughter.
After everything she had done tonight to shock and appal−coming to the theatre unchaperoned, dressed in a scandalous dress, speaking to a man to whom she had never been properly introduced−it appeared all her efforts had been for nothing. For despite her intentions, she had apparently found the only gentleman in all of England who despised gossip!
***
Watching Mrs. Reignold intently, Arthur frowned as he saw her eyes close for a moment and a disbelieving smile come to her face as though she was displeased with his reaction. There was something truly strange about this woman, that he could not make sense of.
And it bothered him.
“Your reaction leads me to believe,” he began, trying to sort through the chaos in his head, “that you were never concerned about the possibility that I spread word of our encounter,” he chuckled, “and not because you deem me trustworthy, but because…you wouldn’t mind. Was it your intention in coming here tonight to cause yet another scandal?”
Mrs. Reignold shrugged, then sighed as her shoulders slumped. “I admit I would have enjoyed seeing shocked faces all around me, yes. However, initially, I only…,” she drew in a deep breath, her eyes having lost their sparkle, “…I only meant to enjoy myself.”
“Then I suggest you find less harmful ways to do so,” Arthur advised, wondering why he even bothered as she seemed very well aware of the potential consequences of her actions. If indeed it was her intention of ruining herself further, then there was nothing he could do to prevent it. And yet, there was something in her eyes that stopped him from simply walking away for it reminded him of his sister.
A deep-seated sadness and the almost firm believe that all hope was lost.
Did she truly see her life like this?
Shaking her head, Mr
s. Reignold took a step toward him, her eyes suddenly ablaze with barely contained fury. “I appreciate your concern, my lord,” she snarled into his face, “however, it is much too late for such advice.”
Surprised at her outburst, Arthur felt his muscles tense.
“My reputation will not suffer,” she continued, her hands on her hips, “for it is already lying dead at my feet.”
“What about your son?” Arthur asked, trying to remember the many details his mother had recently shared with him. At that point, however, he had done his utmost not to commit such gossip to memory.
Again, Mrs. Reignold laughed, a touch of hysteria to her voice. “He will not suffer. After all, he is a man. Men can do whatever they want and not suffer the repercussions. The best example is my husband.” Her eyes flashed with anger as she fixed him with a daring glare. “You know how he died, do you not? You’ve heard the rumours, isn’t that true?”
With a sense of guilt in his heart, Arthur nodded. “I’m afraid I have.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, it is fairly impossible to go through life and not have other people’s business carried to your ears.”
“Then you know that despite the occasional whisper here and there, my late husband’s reputation has not suffered. In fact, ever since his passing, people look at me as though I’ve committed yet another faux pas. Somehow it is all my fault.” Shrugging her shoulders, she shook her head, her eyes clouded with injustice and resignation. “My son will undoubtedly follow in his father’s footsteps. He will learn that men can do no wrong and that women are always to blame.”
Where before she had seemed like a raging fury, now all strength seemed to have left her, and for a moment, Arthur feared she would faint. However, then her chin rose a notch and she met his gaze.
“I’m sorry to hear about the course your life has taken,” Arthur began gently. However, he hastened on when her mouth opened in protest and her eyes began to flash with anger once more. “Still, what becomes of your son is mostly dependent on you.”
As though taken aback, she blinked.
“You’re his mother,” Arthur reminded her. “You’re the one who will shape who he is and who he will become. Raise him into a man you can be truly proud of, and the past will not repeat itself.” Holding her gaze, Arthur waited, and from the look in her eyes, he thought that that possibility had never occurred to her. Did she truly only see her husband’s misdeeds when she looked into the face of her little boy?
A moment later, Arthur’s thoughts were interrupted when footsteps echoed to his ears from the opposite side of the large staircase. Instantly, panic seized him−a rather unfamiliar feeling−and he acted without thought−a rather untypical event.
Reaching for Mrs. Reignold, he pulled her behind the large stone column, hoping that it would shield them both, praying that whoever was approaching would turn down the stairs and not come in their direction.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Reignold demanded, confusion on her face as she stared up at him. Then her gaze shifted to his hand where it rested on her arm.
Instantly, Arthur dropped his hand. However, he could not step back or he would reveal himself. “Someone is coming,” he whispered, hoping she would remain still and not force him to play a part in her next scandalous deed.
At his words, however, she froze, her gaze fixed on his face as she listened intently to the approaching footsteps.
Forcing himself to ignore the rapid beating of his heart, Arthur could make out the couple’s voices as they−to his utmost relief−turned toward the staircase.
“Do not worry, my dear,” the woman said. “I’m perfectly fine. Simply a bit exhausted.”
“Rose,” Mrs. Reignold whispered before she clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Nevertheless, we should return home so you can lie down,” the gentleman replied, his voice slowly fading away as they reached the ground floor.
Releasing the breath he’d been holding, Arthur closed his eyes. “They’re gone,” he whispered then, surprised to find Mrs. Reignold gazing up at him, a tentative smile giving her lips a slight curl. “Is something wrong?” he asked, uncertain what to make of her reaction.
Her smile grew wider. “Why are you trying to protect me?”
Arthur swallowed as her clear blue eyes held his, shining with such delight that he could not bring himself to look away. “I don’t know.” Again, he swallowed. “You should return home. Next time, we might not be so fortunate as to remain undiscovered.”
“Next time?” she asked, a teasing gleam in her eyes.
Clearing his throat, Arthur finally realised that Mrs. Reignold was still trapped between the stone column and himself and hastily took a step backward. “I apologise,” he mumbled, wondering when right and wrong had become such ill-defined concepts. After all, his world had been quite balanced a mere few minutes ago. However, at the moment, it appeared to be more unhinged than he had ever known it to be.
“There is no need to apologise,” Mrs. Reignold assured him as she took a step forward, once more closing the distance between them. “After all, your only intention was to protect me, was it not?”
“Certainly,” Arthur assured her, feeling rather flustered all of a sudden. “However, my intention did interfere with yours.”
“It did,” she confirmed as her eyes met his once more, and what he saw there made the breath catch in his throat. “Are you willing to make amends?”
“Amends?” Arthur croaked for although he could not say why, a cold shiver suddenly ran down his back.
A slow smile curled up the corners of her mouth, and before Arthur knew what was happening, she stepped toward him. Her hand brushed over the side of his face, pulling him down to her, before her lips claimed his in a gentle kiss.
It only lasted a moment, and yet, Arthur could have sworn that the world had been set ablaze.
Pulling back, Mrs. Reignold smiled at him. “Thank you,” she whispered then, her soft breath caressing his skin, before she turned around and hurried down the stairs. At the doors, she looked over her shoulder for one short moment and a deep smile curled up her lips.
Then she was gone, swallowed up by the dark night, and Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if he had merely imagined her.
After all, women like her didn’t truly exist, did they?
At least, he had never met one.
Not until today.
Chapter Seven − A Heart's Desire
The whole carriage ride home, Diana marvelled at the smile that seemed to be stuck on her face. As much as she tried she could not convince the corners of her mouth to abandon their post. They were set firmly in place, causing her heart to skip a beat every now and then as she remembered how differently the evening had gone from how she had hoped it would.
And yet, she had no regrets.
Diana had wanted to enjoy herself, to feel something, to feel alive.
And she had.
The moment Lord Stanhope had pulled her behind the column, his grey eyes dark with concern as he had shielded her from the threat of discovery, her heart had leapt into her throat. She had seen the rapid beating of his pulse right above his collar. She had felt the warmth of his body as he had towered before her. And from one moment to the next, she had felt like the young, innocent girl she had once been.
Not since that night when she had followed Lord Norwood into the garden had she felt like this.
Her heart seemed to dance in her chest. Her breath could barely draw enough oxygen from the air around her. And her skin tingled with the memory of their kiss.
Had she truly kissed him? Diana marvelled once again, shocked to have acted in such a brazen way.
After spending the past four years living a life dictated by countless rules and restrictions, that night had Diana feeling beyond daring and bold. The whole night had been an adventure, and she could only hope that the next one would find her sooner rather than later.
Almost dancing up the steps to the upper floor of he
r townhouse, Diana stopped just outside her door when a soft wail reached her ears.
At first, she was confused. What could possibly make such a pitiful sound?
Then, however, the wailing increased, and Diana froze when she realised that it was her son.
Instantly, Lord Stanhope’s voice echoed in her mind. Raise him into a man you can be truly proud of, and the past will not repeat itself.
As her heart thudded in her chest and her breath came in laboured gasps, Diana slowly made her way down the hall toward her son’s nursery. Never had she felt a desire to see him, to hold him, and always had she wondered what that said about her as a woman, a mother.
However, such thoughts had always been more disturbing than beneficial, and so Diana had refrained from entertaining them too often. After all, they had served no purpose.
Tonight, however, everything seemed different.
For a reason she could not name, her son’s wails drew her near. Opening the door, a distant part of her mind wondered where his nurse was, but it was quickly silenced by a new sense of awe as she spotted her little son, standing in his crib, his cheeks stained with tears and his tiny hands reaching for her.
Swallowing to dislodge the lump in her throat, Diana stared at the small child. What was she to do?
Usually when he started fussing, the nurse would take her of him. But how? What did one do to soothe a crying child? With no younger siblings or cousins, Diana was at a loss. Never had she considered herself a maternal person, and considering the circumstances under which her son had been born, she never thought that that would ever change.
Then why did his tear-streaked face as it glistened in the soft light of the moon cause her such discomfort?
Taking a step into the dark room, Diana drew in a deep breath, her mind racing, still unclear as to what to do.
Sobs escaped her son’s lips, but the wails had stopped as he watched her, his little fingers stretched as he stood on his tiptoes, reaching for her.