or forget, my dear. I know. I have encountered many such people during my life, and I haven’t shed a tear at seeing them on their way. Now, why don’t you run along upstairs?’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘You’ve had a long day, and I’m sure you will feel better for a rest. Dinner is not for another two hours so you’ve plenty of time to shake off the effects of your journey. I want to see some colour back in your cheeks.’
Diana smiled crookedly. ‘I dare say a rest before dinner would be welcome. I love Phoebe dearly, but her chatter can be wearing after a time. All right, Chaucer, it’s time to move,’ she said, giving him a gentle push.
Lifting his head, the hound gave her a doleful look, then slowly got up and padded back to his place by the fire.
Diana was almost at the door when Mrs Mitchell stopped her with a question. ‘Have you told Phoebe what happened four years ago?’
Though half-expecting the question, Diana sighed. ‘I didn’t have the heart to. She’s always been so excited about the idea of falling in love and getting married, I didn’t want to sound as though I was warning her away from it. But I have thought about how she would feel if she were to hear anything of a distressing nature.’
‘Well, we can’t deny that the possibility exists,’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘Since you were not willing to tell anyone what really happened between you and Lord Durling, people were left to believe what he told them—that you jilted him. As such, the simple fact of your being in London now may be all that is required to start them talking again. That doesn’t mean Phoebe will be exposed to it, of course, and given that one of us will likely be with her when she does go out, we should be able to prevent her hearing anything untoward. But we cannot guarantee that something won’t slip through.’
‘Are you saying I should say something to her?’
‘I’m saying we should probably wait and see. Most people will assume that Phoebe already knows what happened, and since the true pleasure of gossip lies in the telling of it to someone who isn’t acquainted with it, they may not waste their breath. However, if it does come up, I have no doubt Phoebe will come to you for the truth. You can make up your mind then as to whether or not you wish to tell her.’
It seemed a logical solution, and Diana accepted it as such. But close on the heels of that came another question. ‘Do you think Lord Durling knows I’m back in London?’
‘Oh, Diana.’ It was her aunt’s turn to sigh. ‘I think it would be naïve of us to believe that he isn’t aware. He’s far too well connected for matters like that to escape his notice.’
Diana nodded. Of course Lord Durling would know she was back, it was foolish of her to have thought otherwise. But she’d had to ask. She had to know if the lies Lord Durling had told about her four years ago were still the stories society believed today. She had to know if she was still thought of as the heartless schemer who had jilted her fiancé for the worst of reasons, and on the very day before they were to have been wed!
Chapter Two
I n the overall scheme of things, Edward Thurlow, Earl of Garthdale, was not unhappy with his life. Born into a situation most would have envied, he had inherited not only the title upon his father’s death, but the extensive lands and wealth that went with it. He enjoyed good health and a wide circle of friends, and a family situation that was, for the most part, agreeable.
He had two sisters, the elder of whom, Barbara, was happily married and soon to bear her second child, and a younger one, Ellen, who had been keeping company with a titled gentleman, who was said to be on the verge of proposing marriage. The only blot on his otherwise happy life, Edward acknowledged, was his mother.
His father, God rest his soul, had died four and a half years ago, and while the rest of the family had come to terms with his passing, his mother quite simply had not. She had stubbornly refused to move on with her life, and had become more fretful and cynical as the months went on. She had taken to complaining bitterly about a variety of physical aches and pains that suddenly seemed to have afflicted her, and as a result, was often to be found in bed, bemoaning the fact that no one truly understood what she suffered.
Edward wasn’t surprised that many of her friends had stopped calling. Moreover, he suspected that the ailments from which she suffered were strictly a means of drawing attention her way, since it was clear that her need for her family had increased as dramatically as theirs for her had decreased.
Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about that. He was hardly in need of a mother’s care, nor was Barbara, who had a family of her own to look after. And given that the servants effectively saw to the running of the house, it fell to Ellen to bear the brunt of their mother’s persistent attentions. The fact that her younger daughter might soon be engaged did nothing to prevent Lady Garthdale from clucking over her like a mother hen over her chick, which, at times, Edward supposed to be an apt comparison since, at times, Ellen seemed to possess no more sense than one.
Still, she was a sweet-natured child, deserving of happiness and anxious for a home of her own, and Edward was happy to see her courted by a man of wealth and position. Besides, once they were married, his obligation to her came to an end and he would be free to turn his attention to his own future and marital plans.
Not that he had any plans, Edward admitted as he trotted Titan, his large bay hunter, through the early morning quiet of the park. He had managed to reach the age of six and thirty without having been caught in the parson’s mousetrap, but he knew it wasn’t a situation that could go on forever. It fell to him to ensure the continuation of the line, and until now, he hadn’t given that particular obligation much thought. However, with Ellen all but settled, and his mother unlikely to produce another heir, he no longer had a choice. He had to take a wife.
The question was, who? Certainly, there was a long enough list of eligible young ladies from which to choose. His mother frequently rhymed their names off to him, and of late even Barbara had begun introducing the subject of which innocent young miss might be best suited to the role of Countess of Garthdale.
The problem was, Edward didn’t want an innocent young miss for a wife. He wanted a woman of character; a woman with whom he had something in common, and with whom he could have stimulating conversations. One who possessed the intelligence and sharpness of mind to have informed thoughts and opinions of her own.
Was that so shocking?
His friends seemed to think so, particularly those who wanted to marry attractive, well-dowered girls who would present them with sons and then leave them to pursue their own interests. But Edward couldn’t imagine a more dismal prospect. He could not imagine spending the rest of his life with a woman who did not at least share some of his interests, particularly those that related to politics or commerce.
To him, the idea seemed more purgatory than pleasure.
It was true, he would never be called upon to make his living from the land, or to forge his way in business, but as a member of the House of Lords, surely it behoved him to learn all he could about the factors affecting the British economy.
Closer to home, he wanted to be able to talk to someone other than his land steward or secretary about the state of the home farm and the welfare of his tenants. He wanted to be able to discuss such things with his wife. Unfortunately, other than Barbara, Edward had met very few women who showed an interest in anything beyond the latest copy of La Belle Assemblée.
His father had understood his desire to marry a woman of sound mind, perhaps because his father had had the misfortune to be married to one who hadn’t. Oh,
