The Lady Forfeits

Gabriel frowned. ‘My dear Diana, if I truly were the man almost everyone believes me to be, then I could simply be lying again when I say, no, it is not.’

She smiled gently. ‘I do not believe so. You are a man, I think, who would tell the truth and—excuse me—to the devil with what anyone else chooses to believe!’

Yes, he was. He had always been so, and this past eight years had only deepened that resolve. But, again, it was surprising that this woman already knew him well enough to have realised and accepted that …

‘And the—the young girl,’ she spoke hesitantly. ‘What became of her?’

His mouth tightened. ‘My father paid another man to marry her.’

‘And the babe?’

That nerve pulsed once again in Gabriel’s tightly clenched jaw. ‘Lost before it was even born.’

Diana’s expression was pained. ‘How very sad.’

‘Knowing all of this, are you still of the opinion you wish to become my countess?’ he asked her directly.

Her cheeks were pale, her hair in slight disarray from their kisses, but there was still that familiar light of resolve in those sky-blue eyes. ‘You are no more responsible for what people may wrongly choose to believe of you than I can be held accountable for my mother having left her husband and three daughters.’

Gabriel’s mouth quirked. ‘The announcement of a betrothal between the two of us would certainly give society much to talk about!’

She smiled a little sadly. ‘No doubt. Perhaps, if you hope to become reconciled to society you should not, after all, contemplate taking one of Harriet Copeland’s daughters as your countess?’

Gabriel’s expression hardened. ‘I have absolutely no interest in becoming reconciled to society, or in having society be reconciled to me. Nor do I care what any of them may choose to think of me or the woman I take as my countess.’

‘Then we are in agreement?’ Diana held her breath as she waited for his answer.

‘I will have the announcement of our betrothal appear in the newspapers as soon as is possible.’ He gave a sharp inclination of his arrogant head.

This was what Diana had wanted, what she knew was necessary to salvage her own pride after Malcolm’s defection, and to encourage her sisters to return home. Yet the reality of being betrothed to the hard and unyielding Lord Gabriel Faulkner, a man beset with a past scandal that rivalled even that of Diana’s mother—worse, a man who had kissed her with such passion only minutes ago—caused her to inwardly tremble.

Whether that trembling was caused by apprehension or anticipation she was as yet unsure …

Chapter Three

‘I am seriously starting to doubt that your Aunt Humphries exists,’ Gabriel commented drily the following morning as he and Diana sat together in the small dining room, eating their breakfast attended by the quietly efficient Soames.

The previous afternoon had been taken up with various visits to the newspaper offices, the Westbourne lawyer, William Johnston, and to an old comrade in connection with Dominic Vaughn’s disappearance into the country. But Gabriel had returned home in time to change for dinner before joining Diana downstairs. Only Diana. Mrs Humphries had sent her apologies. Those same apologies had been sent down again in regard to breakfast this morning.

Diana smiled. ‘I assure you she does exist, but suffers dreadfully with her nerves. In fact, she did not wish to come to London at all and only did so because I insisted on coming here,’ she added affectionately.

Gabriel raised dark brows. ‘I am relieved she had enough sense to agree to accompany you, at least. But taking to her rooms the moment you arrived, and remaining there, is certainly not helpful. In fact, it is totally unacceptable now that I am residing here, too.’

She looked enquiringly at him. ‘Surely there can be no impropriety when you are my guardian?’

‘A guardian who is now, officially, your betrothed.’ Gabriel passed the open newspaper he had been reading across the table to her.

Diana’s hands trembled slightly as she took possession of it, searching down the appropriate column until she located the relevant announcement. The betrothal is announced between Lord Gabriel Maxwell Carter Faulkner, seventh Earl of Westbourne, Westbourne House, London, and his ward, the Lady Diana Harriet Beatrice Copeland, of Shoreley Park, Hampshire. The wedding will take place shortly at St George’s Church, Hanover Square.

There was nothing else. No naming of who Gabriel Faulkner’s parents were, or her own, just the announcement of their betrothal. Nevertheless, there was something so very real about seeing the betrothal printed in the newspaper and knowing that it would no doubt be read by hundreds of people all over London this morning as they also sat at their breakfast tables.

Not that Diana had even considered changing her mind about the betrothal since they had come to their agreement yesterday. Nor did she baulk at the comment that the marriage was to ‘take place shortly’—the sooner the better as far as she was concerned, preferably before Malcolm Castle and Miss Vera Douglas walked down the aisle together!

No, Diana had no regrets about her decision; it was only that seeing the betrothal in print also made Gabriel Faulkner so very real to her too. Not that there could really have been any doubts in her mind about that, either, after being held in his arms and kissed so passionately by him yesterday.

Just thinking about that kiss had kept her awake last night long after she had retired to her bedchamber …

Nothing in Aunt Humphries’s talk all those years ago, concerning what took place in the marriage bed, had prepared Diana for the heady sensations that had assailed her body as Gabriel had kissed and held her. The heat. The clamouring excitement. The yearning ache for something more, something she wasn’t sure of, but believed that marriage to a man of his experience and sophistication would undoubtedly reveal to her …

Gabriel watched beneath hooded lids as the colour first left Diana’s creamy cheeks before coming back again, deeper than ever. That rosy flush was practically the same colour as the gown she wore this morning, accompanied by an almost feverish glitter in those sky-blue eyes as she raised heavily lashed lids to look across the breakfast table at him. ‘You are concerned by the word “shortly” in the announcement, perhaps?’ he asked.

‘Not at all,’ she dismissed readily. ‘I would like to find my sisters first, of course, but can see no reason why the wedding should not take place immediately after that.’

‘No?’ Gabriel looked at her wickedly. ‘I had imagined that perhaps you might wish to give your young man—I trust he is a young man?—the appropriate time in which to rush to your side and admit to having made a mistake as he proclaims his everlasting love for you?’

Irritated colour now darkened Diana’s cheeks at Gabriel’s teasing tone. ‘He is a young man, yes … as well as a very stupid one. And even if he were to do that, I would not believe or trust such a claim.’ Her mouth—that deliciously full and tempting mouth—had firmed with resolve.

Gabriel leant back in his chair to look across at her speculatively. That Diana was beautiful could not be denied. That she had a firmness of will could also be in no doubt. That her nature was unforgiving where this young man was concerned he found surprising. Especially considering she had accepted Gabriel’s own claim of innocence the previous day without his having produced so much as a shred of evidence to back up that claim. Except his word …

He set his jaw. ‘Perhaps I should know the name of this young man? So that I might send him about his business if he should decide to come calling,’ he added as Diana gave him a sharp glance.

‘I trust I am perfectly capable of dealing with such a situation myself if it should ever arise,’ she retorted snippily.

Gabriel was well aware of the strength of Diana’s character—how could he not be when he knew she had acted as both mistress of her father’s house and mother to her two sisters since the age of eleven?

No, his reason for wishing to know who the young fool was who had turned away from Diana when her fortunes had changed was a purely selfish one; having secured her agreement to marry him, he had no intention of now allowing her to be persuaded into changing her mind. Firstly, because they would both be made to look incredibly foolish if the betrothal ended almost before it began. And secondly, because kissing her yesterday had shown him that marriage to her would not be the hardship he had always envisaged matrimony to be …

Beneath the coolness, and that air of practicality and efficiency she had displayed so ably by preparing Westbourne House for habitation, Gabriel had discovered a warm and passionate young woman that he would very much enjoy introducing to physical pleasure. He certainly had no intention of allowing some fortune-hunting young idiot to reappear in her life and steal her away from under his very nose. Or any other part of his anatomy!

Gabriel’s mouth compressed. ‘Nevertheless, you will refer any such situation to me.’

Diana looked irritated. ‘I feel I should warn you, my lord, that I have become accustomed to dealing with my own affairs as I see fit.’

He gave an acknowledging inclination of his dark head. ‘An occurrence that I believe our own betrothal now renders unnecessary.’

It was Diana’s first indication of how life was to change for her now that she had agreed to become Gabriel’s wife. A change she was not sure she particularly cared for. Ten years of being answerable only to herself had instilled an independence in her that she might find hard to relinquish. Even to a husband. ‘I am unused to allowing anyone to make my decisions for me,’ she reiterated.

Gabriel did not doubt it; it was because Diana was no simpering miss, no starry-eyed young debutante looking to fall in love and have that man fall equally as in love with her, that he could view their future marriage with any degree of equanimity. ‘I am sure that, given time, we will learn to deal suitably with each other.’

Diana gave a knowing smile. ‘I think by that you mean, with time, I will learn to accede to your male superiority!’

Gabriel found himself returning that smile. ‘You do not agree?’

She shook her head. ‘I do not believe you to be in the least superior to me just because you are a man. Nor is my nature such that it will allow for subservient and unquestioning obedience.’

Since meeting Diana, Gabriel had come to realise that the last thing that he desired in a wife was subservience or obedience. When he had told Osbourne and Blackstone a week or so ago of his plans to marry, Gabriel had assured them both that his marriage was a matter of obligation and expediency. Firstly, because he needed a wife, and, secondly, because of a sense of obligation to the Copeland sisters, because they had all been left without provision for their future when their father had died so unexpectedly. As such, subservience and obedience in his future wife had seemed the least that Gabriel could expect.

Having glimpsed the fire hidden beneath Diana’s cool exterior yesterday, Gabriel knew that in their marriage bed, at least, he required neither of those things!