A Marquess Is Forever Page 2

  Tall. Fat. Short. Thin. Ugly. Handsome. Rich. Poor. She liked them all, or so it appeared to anyone who took even the slightest bit of notice. Which was, unfortunately, a great deal of society as a whole.

  Seemingly to Patience, none of those things mattered so long as the man in question had the right equipment between his legs, and even then, Diana was certain the woman could somehow manage to find pleasure, even if that particular appendage was not present or did not function. The woman was, in Diana's opinion, anyway, nothing more than a whore. Again, not that she would ever say such a thing. But she certainly could think it, no matter how unladylike such a thought was.

  The entire situation might not have been so disgraceful, had Patience not borne a son the previous summer that even a blind man could see was not of Oliver's bloodlines. Then perhaps - just perhaps mind you - she could be forgiven this one misstep. After all, Lord Alex was devilishly handsome and something of a known rake who occasionally dabbled with unhappily married society women.

  However that child, now viewed by all as Oliver's legitimate son, was now heir to both the Westfield viscountcy and, though a quirk of fate, the Tottenshire earldom. A child not of Oliver's blood, but instead one who was the bastard of Patience's painting master. One look at the child's mahogany curls, which matched the painting master's perfectly and did not in any way resemble Oliver's or Patience's pale blonde hair, made it plain for anyone to see.

  To further aggravate matters within polite society, as of late, Patience had made a habit of lavishing her attentions on men that were not her husband, including those who were otherwise betrothed. Tonight her rather overt attentions towards Lord Alex were certain to upset the lovely and delicate Lady Sophia. And upsetting Lady Sophia was never a good idea, especially if one wanted to keep their good standing in society. The Duke of Hathaway would not permit even the barest hint of unhappiness to touch his beloved sister if he could avoid it. And if Lady Diana knew nothing else about the duke, she knew well that he did not have much of a sense of humor - about anything really, but especially where the affections of his sister were concerned.

  It was common knowledge that while Hathaway did not approve of Selby as a potential husband for his sister, he was also not inclined to allow her to marry elsewhere, as she seemed to have her heart set upon the man. It was also common knowledge that if Hathaway did have one soft spot within him, it was for his family, particularly his sister. If it was within his power to grant her what her heart desired, the duke did so - save for this one little incident with Lord Selby, for some odd reason. Over the last several months, Sophia had made it plain that she desired Selby. Therefore, given time, most expected the duke to likely to approve the match - but not just yet. Hathaway still felt that Selby, even as the future Earl of Chilton, had some "deficiencies," as the duke termed them, to overcome, but Hathaway was also seemingly certain that his sister could, in time, bring the young man up to scratch.

  Therefore Patience's continued pawing at Lord Selby was angering not just Oliver - if one could truly say that he was ever angry about anything other than a bad piece of horseflesh - but the duke and his sister as well. The lady's actions might have been angering Lord Selby as well, but in all honestly, Diana could not tell. The man appeared rather dazed, as if he had been hit over the head by a heavy object, and was unable to move out of the path of the approaching storm that was the duke's growing anger. Selby was truly that dazed by the sheer force of nature that was Patience Saintwood.

  Normally, it would not be a lady's place to intervene. Certainly, such actions were simply not proper. However as Diana was somewhat betrothed - which was to say not really at all - to Lord Hathaway and that Lady Sophia was one of her closest friends and that Oliver was Diana's beloved brother, she felt compelled to do something. After all, inaction often led to unforeseen consequences. Diana had learned that lesson very well over the years. It was how she had ended up sort-of-but-not-really betrothed to the duke, after all.

  So with a practiced grace that made it appear as if she was not rushing over to her brother's side - when in reality she was doing just that - Diana wove her way through the room, gracing those she brushed past with a smile, a kind word, and the promise of a dance later when several unmarried gentleman had the nerve to remark upon the nearly empty dance card that still dangled from her wrist.

  Still, she did not rush immediately over to Oliver's side. At least she tried not to appear as if she was doing so.

  As a general rule, Diana did not rush. She did have some sense of decorum after all. However she did make haste, and when she arrived at her brother's side, she was feeling a decided flush of heat on her skin. Though given what a crush the ball was, she could easily credit the overstuffed room for her rose-hued appearance. But never would she credit it to anger. Or fear. Or worry. Or any of the other numerous unladylike behaviors she had so recently engaged in.

  "Oliver!" Diana exclaimed with a false, cheery brightness before looping her arm through his. "And Patience! Mama said you were not to attend this evening." Then she looped her other arm through her sister-in-law's, practically dragging the other woman away from Lord Selby's side. Well not away precisely, but farther apart so that it no longer appeared as if Patience was simply another one of Lord Selby's appendages.

  "We weren't," there was a tone in Oliver's voice that Diana could not interpret, "but Patience insisted." He shot his wife a dark look. Perhaps he wasn't as calm as he pretended to be, Diana decided. Maybe he was angry too - which would be an event of some note since Oliver, like Diana, was generally known for his cheerful disposition as well.

  In turn, Patience flipped her hand in the air, her gaze still straying longingly to Lord Selby. "La, but I could not miss this fête!" She took in the room with a hungry gaze, and Diana could almost see her salivating over the unmarried men with titles loftier than the one her husband possessed - including the Duke of Hathaway. "Anyone who is anyone of consequence is here. And what with Lady Radcliffe so newly a mother..." She let the rest of the sentence dangle and Diana wasn't certain if her sister-in-law meant that she hoped to catch a glimpse of the babe or whether she felt that left the path clear for her to invite herself into Radcliffe's bed. Knowing Patience, it was probably the latter.

  Either way, Patience was doomed to failure and at least some part of her must have known the truth, which was why she was practically hanging off Lord Selby while making calf eyes at Hathaway from across the room.

  "It is a crush to be certain." Diana kept her tones neutral and measured so that she would not betray her displeasure at Patience's actions. In general, Diana was a happy, upbeat person. She liked people and society in general. She enjoyed laughing and spending time with her friends. She liked dancing, musicales, plays, and other entertainments, often spent in the delightful company of others. Above all, she loved happy endings, especially between two people who were destined to be together, forsaking the rigid rules of purely political society marriages and instead opting for a true love match.

  At one time, she had believed Patience and Oliver to be a love match. No longer. Now, Diana simply wished that her sister-in-law would learn a little bit of decorum, though that was as unlikely as a pig flying through Radcliffe's ballroom this evening.

  "If you will all excuse me, there is an urgent matter I must attend to. Saintwood, I will see you on the 'morrow." At some point, Lord Selby had returned to his senses and had disentangled himself from Patience, though at what point, Diana had not noticed. He sketched a quick bow to both ladies and then hurried off in the direction of the card room, though not before sending a longing look in Lady Sophia's direction. It was not lost on anyone that Lady Sophia turned away to resume speaking to her friends, practically ignoring Lord Selby. While it was not the cut direct, the displeasure in the young lady's gaze was evident.

  Patience clucked her tongue as she watched him depart. "Pity that he is developing morals. I understood from Lady Fairhill that he used to dally frequently with unhappily
married society ladies."

  "Which would not include you, I am certain." Diana felt the need to defend her brother, even though he did not seem inclined to defend himself. That she did so in such a sharp tone was utterly beside the point.

  "Me?" Patience brought a hand to her chest, the very picture of innocence. "Why how could you ever think such a thing? No, I am very happy with my beloved Oliver!" Her performance was very convincing and had a person not known her history, she would have been extremely believable. However since Diana knew every last secret of her brother's disastrous marriage, she wasn't fooled for a moment. She hoped that Oliver wasn't either but Diana suspected that he was. Either that or he no longer cared. She would not blame him if that was the case.

  Still, Diana nodded as if in complete agreement. It was expected of her and she could do no less. "Of course not. I would never dream of such a thing."

  It was then that Patience smirked a bit, clearly ready for her own venomous strike. "Still, it is not unusual for married women to daydream a bit, don't you know. Sameness breeds boredom after all." Then she bared her teeth, making an otherwise attractive face look utterly ugly. "Not that you would know of course, what with still being unmarried at your age."

  Drawing in a sharp breath, Diana refused to respond to Patience's obvious baiting. Most in her circle of friends knew that at six and twenty, this was likely to be Diana's last season on the marriage mart. Not that she was precisely marriageable material anyway, what with the complex and completely confusing situation with Lord Hathaway still hanging over her head. Even if a man was interested in courting her - and many had been over the years - Diana's parents would likely not allow a courtship. Instead, her parents, in particular her mother, desperately clung to the pact that Ursula Saintwood - then Ursula Pipwick - had made with her best friend, Mary Wellstone, the future Duchess of Hathaway.

  The pact was really quite simple. If the ladies married well and produced the appropriate first-born children, then those same children should be wed when they came of age, uniting the two families forever. And the required children had come to pass - a girl for Ursula and a boy for Mary. However at some point, someone had forgotten to mention to Mary's son, Adam, now the duke, of the women's long ago forged plans. Or if someone had informed him, he had simply ignored the dictate, instead choosing to court any number of young ladies in addition to Diana, never being truly serious about any of them. Often remarking with some dryness and a brief hint of revulsion that he was not yet ready to be leg shackled to anyone. All despite rumors to the contrary that he was to wed Diana, which passed through the drawing rooms of London like so much hot air on a summer's day.

  Mary Reynolds had, of course, continually reassured her friend Ursula that, given enough time, her son would come around and marry Diana. Eventually. Maybe. As of yet, that had not occurred. In fact, there wasn't even a hint that the duke viewed Diana as anything more than one more young lady in a bevy of beauties who vied for his attention and affections.

  In the meantime, unfortunately, Diana was often relegated to the edges of society, beautiful and desirable but not truly available to be courted. For no one was foolish enough to cross the decidedly staid but supremely powerful Duke of Hathaway. Especially not where Lady Diana Saintwood was concerned. It was simply assumed by all that, in time, Diana and Adam would marry. Perhaps. Or not.

  However after watching her friends marry off one by one, Diana had begun to truly doubt that such a marriage would ever take place for her. During the Earl of Weatherby's winter house party at the turn of the new year, her suspicions had, unfortunately again, been confirmed. Love was in the air and Diana, who had been a guest at the party, had done everything within her power to ensure that Lady Amelia Banbrook had been able to capture both the heart and hand of her beloved, the aforementioned earl.

  After the whirlwind wedding that had ended both the house party and the Twelfth Night celebrations, Diana, dressed in her finest Madame LeVallier gown, had turned to the duke, who had also been in attendance, and believed that now, finally, he would uphold the agreement their mothers had made so long ago. She had not expected a proposal, certainly, but at least an acknowledgement of the unspoken agreement would have sufficed. A nod of the head or a whisper in her ear that soon it would be their turn to take a trip into the parson's noose.

  Instead, he had simply given her a rather droll look and made the comment that he was happy that it was not him who was leg shackled. In that moment, Diana knew the truth. Lord Adam Reynolds, the Duke of Hathaway, would not marry her. Not now and not ever. He never even had any intention of doing so, yet he had been too cowardly to speak up. In doing so, or rather by doing nothing, he had cost Diana the chance to make a successful match, and the look of pure shame that crossed his face as it followed his rather harsh words told her that he well knew it.

  Inaction - on both of their parts - had serious but unintended consequences. More so for her than for him. Lesson learned. Again.

  "There is more to life than marriage," Diana responded now to her devious sister-in-law, even though she knew good and well that was not true. Even she was not so daring as to truly believe otherwise. Diana had been raised from the cradle for one purpose - to marry well and provide her husband with his requisite heir and spare. "And in any case it is understood that Lord Hathaway and I will be married." She did not add the "eventually" part, for in her heart she knew it was not true.

  "Of course, my darling silly girl." Patience, nearly eight years younger than Diana, smiled as if she was speaking to a simpering miss barely out of the schoolroom. The words made Diana want to smack her sister-in-law with her reticule or fan, but she kept her temper in check. Just barely. Such a scene would not do. "And soon you shall discover all of its mysteries, I am certain. Then you shall truly be a woman, at least to some degree."

  Nodding again, though her teeth were clenched tightly together to stop herself from arguing further, Diana attempted to dismiss the talk of weddings and marriages by changing the subject. "Have you heard that Lord Candlewood is in town for the season as well? Rumor has it that he is a spy for the Home Office, though I am certain it is not true, especially having met the man many times." As a rule, Diana did not like gossip, but she was desperate to change the subject.

  Patience, however, would not be dissuaded from her favorite topic - marriage and the possibility of her bedding a man - married or otherwise. "I also understand that the newly minted Marquess of Hallstone is to be in attendance this evening. He is said to be positively scrumptious! He's Scottish, you know. I heard directly from Lady Jersey that he is in town seeking a bride as well!"

  "It is not surprising," Diana offered quietly, seriously doubting that the esteemed Lady Jersey would give Patience the time of day, but was too much of a lady to mention such a thing. "Is that not the goal of all men eventually?"

  "But he is a newly named marquess!" Patience practically squealed with unabashed delight. "Rumor has it that he was granted his grandfather's title when the old man finally passed a few months ago, but I am not certain how it came about. It was believed that his cousin James would inherit the title since Hallstone is only half-English. Everyone said so. Still! A marquess! La, don't you wish to discover all of his secrets? I am certain he will make an excellent choice in a bride, even if most of the acceptable women are no longer on the market. After that, I am certain he will take a lover or perhaps set up a mistress while he awaits his heir. Men of his standing always do."

  There was something akin to longing in Patience's voice, as if she dared hope that she might be the one chosen to fill the theoretically empty spot in the man's bed, and it made Diana shiver with disquiet. Again, if Oliver noticed, he said nothing. Though given the drink in his hand, which had mysteriously refilled at least twice since the conversation began, Diana wondered if he was even capable of caring any longer or if he had accepted his lot in life. Then Patience's gaze strayed back to the Duke of Hathaway. "And there are other men here, of course, who h
ave not settled on a woman worthy of becoming the mother of their heirs. Not that there are many acceptable ladies to choose from at the moment. Pity that."

  The comment was a direct slap at Diana but she simply pretended she had not taken the full meaning of Patience's words. "Then I pray that Lord Hallstone finds the woman he seeks this season." Diana glanced around, as if surveying potential mates for the man in question. "There are plenty of young, unmarried ladies who would make a splendid match for any man of good breeding. Especially the marquess. If he made a love match, I doubt he would stray from his vows. Not all men are cads. Some actually love their wives. And the wives love them in return."

  Her words were not meant to hurt, precisely, but Diana knew that Patience took their underlying meaning when her nostrils flared a bit and she yanked Oliver away, practically dragging him across the room to where Diana's mother, Lady Ursula Saintwood, the Viscountess Westfield, sat with the other matrons of the ton observing the scene before them. Her mother beckoned to Diana to join them, but Diana found that she could not bring herself to join that row of old dragons and married women who loved nothing more than juicy gossip. She did not want to endure another lengthy hour with her mother expounding on how grand and glorious Diana's wedding to the duke would be. Especially as there would be no wedding. Unfortunately her mother still refused to believe that as fact.

  With a sigh, Diana pretended that she had not seen her mother and turned instead to seek out her friends. Then she paused and, after a moment, made her way out of the ballroom entirely and in the direction of the ladies' retiring room. Her verbal sparring with Patience and her earlier irritation had left her weary and she needed a moment to regain her usually sunny disposition.