let me find out what I can,’ he urged.
She frowned. ‘As much as I appreciate your offer, I...I really ought not to accept it. The battle will likely be ugly as well as expensive. The Duke will not forgive anyone who takes my part, and I don’t want you dragged into it.’
‘I’m not a callow collegian any more, Diana. I can hold my own. Besides, you need to utilise every resource you can muster to protect your son.’
‘To protect James,’ she repeated with a sigh. ‘Very well, let your solicitor look into it. I’ve been a poor enough mother thus far, I cannot afford to turn away help, hard as it is to accept.’
‘You, a poor mother? That, I can’t imagine.’
She laughed shortly. ‘Do you remember the paints? The books? The music? Everything that might affect me was utilised by the Duke to try to force a reaction or keep me under control. A child was just one more tool. The only way to protect him was to be indifferent to him...whatever the Duke said or threatened.’
Her voice faded. ‘To my shame, as the years went on, I didn’t have to struggle so hard to be indifferent. Not nearly as hard as I should have. Every time I looked at James, I saw...his father.’
‘Truly? I knew the first time I saw him that he must be your son. He has your eyes.’
Startled, Diana looked back up at him. ‘You think he has...something of me?’
‘Absolutely! Have you never noticed?’
She shook her head. ‘I am trying to do better, now that I can. But after years forcing down and bottling up and restraining emotion, I...I’m afraid I’ll never find my way back to loving him.’
Alastair thought of how he doted upon his nephew, how easy and affectionate the relationship was between Robbie and Jane. A pang of compassion shook him, that the honest, open, loving Diana he’d known could have been brought to shut out her own son.
The late Duke of Graveston had much to answer for.
‘Just let him love you,’ he said, thinking of how Robbie had inveigled himself into Alastair’s heart. ‘In time, you will find yourself responding.’
Diana smiled sadly. ‘I hope so. Now I really must go. How long do you think it will take for your solicitor to have an answer? If Feral—Graveston’s man—left Bath today, he could reach the Court by week’s end. Which means Graveston could make some new demand within a fortnight, if not sooner.’
‘I could summon Reynolds, but it would be faster for me to call upon him in London. If I leave tomorrow, I should be able to return with some word in six or seven days, so you have time to prepare before the Duke can make another move.’
She nodded. ‘I would like that.’ Swallowing hard, she said softly, ‘How can I thank you? Or ever repay you?’
‘Protecting a child is payment enough. As for thanks...’ He gave her a wicked grin. ‘When I return from London, I’m sure I can think of something.’
She managed a wan smile. While normally he would have tried to persuade her to stay longer, now that he was aware of the worry consuming her over the safety of her son, he made no attempt to seduce as he helped her track down and slip on her garments. When she was clothed again, her hair tidied as best they could manage and the concealing cloak in place, he pulled her close. To his delight, after a moment of hesitation, she clung to him.
Though he didn’t regret his offer to go to London, it meant probably a week or more until he would see her again. Already he felt bereft, and with her pressed against him, his body protested the abstinence about to be forced upon it.
‘Try not to worry too much,’ he told her as he released her at last.
‘I’ll try. I’ll try with James, too.’
He kissed the tip of her nose, still reluctant to let her go. ‘I’ll miss you,’ he admitted.
‘Then come back quickly.’
With that, she walked from the room.
* * *
Alastair followed her through the bedchamber to the stairs, listening to the soft footfalls as she descended and the murmur of voices in the entry below where Marston, as previously arranged, waited to engage a chair to carry her safely home.
Once the last echoes faded, he returned to the sitting room, threw himself in a chair, poured another glass of wine, and reviewed what he’d just committed himself to doing.
It did not represent him easing the reins restraining his feelings, he assured the cautious voice in his head. Any man of honour would step in to assure the safety of a child.
It did indicate, however, that sometime over the course of their renewed association, he had come to accept as true the explanation she’d given him for breaking their engagement to marry the Duke.
Drawing back from considering the full implications of that transformation, he turned his mind instead to considering what Diana had told him about her relationship with the new Duke and her fears for her son’s safety.
Though he still thought Diana’s long, bitter association with her husband and his heir caused her to exaggerate the son’s ruthlessness and enmity, he had to admit he was curious how well she’d been provided for. If there truly were no settlements outlining the exact arrangements for her support if widowed, it represented a grievous failure of his responsibilities on the part of her father.
But it was also true that the professor had been a completely unworldly man, a scholar absorbed in his studies. If he had come to view the Duke as a friend and colleague, he might well have been satisfied with just a verbal assurance that his daughter would be well taken care of in the event of her husband’s demise. Particularly as, in the absence of some formal agreement, she would have the dower to a very wealthy estate.
He’d have to confer with his solicitor on this matter, but he didn’t see how the new Duke could deny rights guaranteed under English law. He had to admit, though, that being entitled to something and effectively claiming it could be quite different matters, especially if a personage with the power and resources of a duke set his mind to making it as time-consuming and difficult as possible.
But all of that was for his legal counsel to discover. What warmed him now, as much as the satisfaction of his well-pleasured body, was the fact that he’d managed to persuade Diana to confide in him.
Since encountering her again, he’d been accumulating evidence in mites and snippets of what her married life had been: her at first rejected account of her marriage, the episodes described by Lady Randolph, the information he’d teased out of her about the removal of her paints and books. But aside from that single moment upon awakening yesterday, when she’d looked at him with awe and tenderness, she’d maintained emotionally aloof.
Regrettable as it was that she’d found herself in such a vulnerable position, Alastair had to admit he was almost—glad of it. Without such an imminent threat to her son, she might have continued keeping him at arm’s length indefinitely.
Instead, with some persistence, tonight he’d managed to breach the wall of impassivity she’d erected to disguise her thoughts and feelings, giving him the clearest-yet glimpse into
