Chapter 7

Oliver

Properly dressed for the day, Oliver sat in the parlor with Anthony and Evie, jiggling his foot as his nervous energy ran rampant while he waited for Diana. He'd run down the previous evening's events for them, with some glossing over of the intimacies they did not need the details of, and had been unsurprised at Anthony's amusement and Evie's censure.

After all, Evie had resisted marriage to her husband under just such terms.

To be perfectly honest, Oliver did not expect Diana to say yes—yet—he just had not wanted her to leave before he could convince her to. Desperate times called for desperate measures and all that. Though, if she had accepted that she needed to marry him to avoid ruination, he would have been perfectly happy with that outcome.

If he'd had to continue faking illness to keep her in the house, he would have, but her reaction had opened another avenue for him.

"You appear far too pleased with yourself," Evie said, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes at him. She slouched on the couch, the way she often did when she was completely relaxed. While she could appear the perfect lady when she desired, it was not her natural state.

Oliver preferred when she was acting the proper lady she should have been brought up as, only because when she was not, it was a reminder of how long it had taken him to find her after her parents' death. She should have never been on the street in the first place, yet she had, for far, far longer than any child should be. Must less a girl child.

He thanked every deity he could think of that worse had not befallen her than what she'd gone through, but he did not like to be reminded of how he'd failed her. Not that he would ever tell her so because he wanted her to be comfortable more than he needed to be comfortable. It was the least he could do for her.

"I am pleased with myself," he answered her. "Miss Rutherford was going to leave in the middle of the night. Now, she's not. You should be pleased, too."

"I might be pleased that she did not disappear in the night, but that does not mean I approve of your tactics to leverage her into marriage." Evie huffed. "You could not have just asked her?"

"She might have said no." He shrugged as Evie rolled her eyes. "She was determined to leave. If she left, convincing her to return would be much more difficult than convincing her to stay, so I did what I had to do."

"Men," Evie muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her husband chuckled. Anthony was the perfect man for her—steady, lethal, and strong enough to stand by her side. Oliver had not thought that she would ever marry, but she'd chosen the right man.

There were a few more long moments of silence before he heard footsteps approaching the open door, and he sat up straight. A pause in the steps, then Diana appeared in the doorway, and both Oliver and Anthony got to their feet. Something inside Oliver relaxed.

Despite her promise to come and speak with them, part of him had still worried she would bolt.

"My lords. My lady." She was starkly formal, utterly rigid as she strode into the room. Rather than moving to a seat, she came to a halt several feet away from the furniture, folding her hands in front of her as if she expected to remain standing.

"Oh, do sit down, Diana," Evie scolded as she sat upright, waving her hand and thankfully saving Oliver from having to give the order. He was not sure Diana would have listened to him at this juncture. "Anthony, close the door, please. We do not want to be interrupted."

Oliver waited until Diana was seated in the armchair beside his before he took his own seat again. The expression on her face said that she was not pleased with having to sit next to him, but the only other alternative was the couch where Anthony and Evie were sitting, which would have been unnecessarily crowded.

"Now, then. Diana, you wish to leave the household?" Though she kept her tone even, Evie was playing the part of the perfect lady of the ton now, and the imperious way she spoke made it clear she was not thrilled with this development. Since that was all to Oliver's benefit, he deemed it best to sit quietly and let his niece take the reins of the conversation for the moment.

"I think it best. The Marquess is fully recovered, and my services are no longer needed." Diana was just as firm as Evie in her statement. She really would make a fantastic marchioness.

"If he is fully recovered, then why was Sylvie running through the hall shrieking that he was dying this morning?" Evie asked, causing Diana to glower at her.

"Because he pretended his heart was giving him trouble."

"How do you know he was pretending?"

"Because the moment I turned around after I went calling for help, he was no longer clutching at his chest, and he was clearly feeling perfectly fine. He only did that to… to…" Diana's voice faltered. She had not been looking at him, but now the way she avoided looking at him was pointed rather than because she was focusing on Evie.

"To… trap you into marriage with him?"

Diana huffed and held out her hands in front of her in a helpless gesture.

"As ridiculous as that sounds, yes."

"Why does that sound ridiculous?" Oliver asked, deciding it was time for him to speak up.

Finally, she turned to look at him, her exasperation with him written clear across his face.

"Because why would you want to marry me?"

"Why would I not?"

"I am a nurse, not a debutante." She threw her hands up in the air, as if he was being the unreasonable one.

"I would not marry a debutante." He would likely run roughshod over the poor girl. Diana might be a bit too young for him, but at least she was far older than a debutante, far more experienced, and had already proven herself capable of managing him. Besides, what he liked in the bedroom would horrify a debutante. Diana was exactly what he wanted in that sphere as well. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you saying you'd rather impugn my honor than marry me?"

"I did not say that!" She huffed again. "I am not trying to impugn your honor, but there is no need to marry me."

"I did not say I needed to marry you. I said I wanted to marry you. If anything, you need to marry me to save your reputation."

"You are impossible," Diana snapped. "My reputation is intact and will remain so unless you deliberately tell your servants to spread the word, which would be dishonorable."

Across from them, Evie and Anthony were watching with interest. Oliver was not sure whether or not he was glad of their presence. On one hand, he preferred not to handle matters of the heart in front of witnesses. On the other hand, he had a feeling their presence was the only thing keeping Diana from running.

Before he could retort, there was a sudden loud pounding on the door, making all of them jump.

"My lady! My lord!" At Stims' urgent tone, Evie and Oliver exchanged a glance, both jumping to their feet, Anthony only a moment behind them. Diana remained seated, seeming to take the moment to recompose herself.

"Come in." Evie's voice whipped out in command. Whatever had driven Stims to interrupt them, it would not be small. As soon as the door opened, Oliver knew it was worse than he might have imagined, and a cold chill went down his spine.

The normally unflappable man was pale and sweaty, wringing his hands in front of him with his mouth slightly open in shock.

"My lady. My lord." His gaze flicked back and forth between Evie and Oliver as though he did not see the others in the room.

"What is it, man?" Oliver asked, bracing himself. His mind was already going through all the events that might have caused such a reaction in Stims, his chest tightening. Was it Elijah? Joseph? Adam? A member of the royal family? A war?

"The dukes, my lord." Stims' mouth worked up and down, as though he was trying to find the words but could not.

"What dukes, Stims?" Her tone much more soothing than Oliver's had been, Evie took a step toward the butler, hands out in front of her as if to reach for his, which seemed to snap him out of it. The lady of the house should not be comforting him, and his pride would not allow it. "What happened to them?"

"They're dead."

Diana

Stims' announcement set the household into a flurry, and the Marquess was in the thick of it, which worried Diana. It would have been the opportune moment to leave, but…

But.

There were things she wanted to know.

Like what happened to the dukes.

Like why he wanted to marry her.

She was also legitimately concerned that he might throw himself into the middle of the crisis and overdo it. While he was recovered, he had handed over the reins of his duties to Evie and Anthony for good reason. Now, he was right there beside them, cursing, stressed, and barking orders at the people coming in and out of the house.

Eight dukes were dead, along with some of their retinue, killed in an explosion and subsequent fire at a hunting lodge… and that was all they knew. Clarence, Hereford, St. Albans, Bolton, Montagu, Ormonde, Grafton, and Northumberland. All men in their fifties with sons old enough to take over, all of whom were being informed that they'd just inherited their titles. The ton was going to be thrown into complete upheaval as the news spread and gossip was going to be rife.

Information was coming in quickly, but not quickly enough for the Marquess.

"We need to know if it was an assassination." He pounded his fist on the desk, his face turning red enough that Diana had to bite her tongue against telling him to sit down and breathe. Though if he did not calm himself, she would do just that in a minute. "We need to know who it is behind it."

"I know, Uncle," Evie snapped back sharply, flipping through a sheaf of notes that had just been delivered as she stood beside the Marquess' desk.

They'd taken over his study, though Diana sat off to the side, organizing the incoming letters once they'd been read. Notes were coming in from all the many eyes and ears the Marquess had placed all over the city.

"So far, there are no reports of any unusual activity at any of the embassies. If anyone was involved, they have hidden it very well. No one even knew anything had happened until they got our message."

"It's looking more and more like it must have been a truly unfortunate accident," Anthony commented, his brow furrowed as he read through another stack of letters. He did not look up, or he would have seen the Marquess' searing look.

"An accident that left eight dukes dead? What are the odds?" The Marquess looked like he was puffing up again.

"Well, they were all drunk, and there was apparently a good bit of gunpowder at their disposal." Anthony sighed, shaking his head. "The twits."

The Marquess opened his mouth, raising his fist to pound it on the table again. He looked like he was about to burst.

"Sit down," Diana said. At the very least, he needed to be off his feet. Though she knew he'd been faking the trouble with his heart this morning, she was starting to worry that he was going to be in real trouble soon.

"What?"

"Sit. You need to sit and breathe and calm yourself. Working yourself into hysterics is hardly going to be helpful."

The Marquess narrowed his eyes at her as he lowered himself into the seat. "I am not hysterical."

"You were getting there. Now, breathe."

"You should marry me if you want to boss me around this much."

"You should cooperate if you want to convince anyone to marry you," she retorted, a flush going through her. Despite everything, he was still bringing that up. She could not help but be flattered, as much as it also frustrated her. Why did he want to marry her so badly?

Could he possibly feel the same way about her that she did about him?

Everything had happened so suddenly, she had not had time to truly think about any of it, and without his reasonings, she did not know what her answer should be. Though part of her realized that her family's financial troubles would be over if she married him, she'd chosen a profession specifically because she did not want to be beholden to a loveless marriage. She would rather work for her income.

On the other hand, he seemed far more invested in marrying her than a man who did not care for her unless he had an ulterior motive. But she could not think of what such an ulterior motive would be.

"You should perhaps try some romance and courtship if you want to convince anyone to marry you," Evie murmured softly enough, Diana almost did not hear her.

The Marquess clearly did, though, and he paused, an arrested expression on his face. Then he looked at Diana, and she quickly ducked her head, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest, she was sure everyone else could hear it.

Romance and courtship. And he's considering it.

She had never been courted before.

Did she want to be courted?

If he's the one doing the courting.

Blast.

This was not the time for this. There was a national crisis at hand, and she was thinking about being courted by her first and only lover. Good grief. Focus, Diana. On the other hand, he was thinking about it, too, which was rather nice.

"I think I will have to go out there to inspect the premises myself," Evie said almost absently. All the dukes had died in an explosion that set the hunting lodge where they'd been staying on fire. "Ask questions of the survivors. See what I can discover and whether or not it was an assassination or a horrific accident."

"You are not going alone," Anthony immediately replied, looking up from his reading.

"Fine. I will take you with me."

"I will stay here." The Marquess scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Someone needs to be here."

Evie shot a pleading look at Diana. She hesitated only a moment before nodding, resigned to staying at Camden House. Without Evie and Anthony there, the Marquess would need support and someone to keep an eye on him. That would have to be her.

Besides, if she left now, it would be harder for him to court her. And Diana was very curious about what that might look like.

What was the harm in staying?