Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

T here were worse routines that a lady could have, to be sure.

With her father continuing his changes, it made her life far easier, and her morning promenades with the Duke were almost joyful. They felt lovely during, but afterward, she felt so conflicted that she swore to refuse the next day. He was dangerous, a friend and nothing more, and…

Very handsome in the morning sunlight. Then she would blink and they would be promenading once more.

"Have you read the scandal sheet this morning, Sister?" Samantha asked at breakfast.

"I do hope that you haven't been reading those," their father sighed. "It is never true, and it only serves to hurt those mentioned."

For once, Diana agreed with her father.

"I am not asking because I wish to gossip," Samantha replied, rolling her eyes. "It is because… well, you are better off reading it for yourself, Di."

Diana eyed her carefully before taking the sheet from her. Samantha pointed to the part she wished her to read.

And such is the issue that I take with Lady Diana Winston and her troublesome Duke. You may wish to note, dear reader, that I am not speaking of His Grace by name. This is quite simply because should he uncover me, he may do unspeakable things in response. However, this author is quite convinced that you all know exactly who I am referring to. There have been matches made of convenience and nothing more, they are more common than love matches, at least, but one cannot help but see such a bizarre pairing and wonder what it is that they see in each other. Lady Diana shall see his riches, that she has lived without all of her life, and his title, which is far greater than her own father's, and perhaps that is all that she requires in a gentleman (she certainly would not be alone in having such requirements) but I wonder what the Duke sees in her?

Should he be in search of beauty, grace, and a lady younger than one of spinsterhood, he need have only looked beside his bride-to-be. Lady Samantha, her sister, is revered by some, and it has not gone unnoticed that she was skipped over in favor of the wallflower spinster whose only notable traits are the two I listed a few mere words ago. If the Duke was not already known for his madness, it would not at all surprise me if he earned the title now.

Then again, I would not be surprised if this was some sort of deal between him and Lady Diana's drunkard father. A business deal to protect his precious one that might actually succeed, or at least find a husband that is not accused of… Well, dear reader, you know precisely what he is accused of, and so I shall not repeat it here. Speaking of accusations, however, Lady Smythe ? —

"Why did you show me this?" Diana asked her sister. "To mock me?"

"Of course not. I would never do that to you, and you know that. I am only showing you so that you might be aware of it, that is all. I also thought you might wish to tell the Duke."

"I believe he is quite aware of it."

"You were not, and you engage with Society. The Duke does not, and so I highly doubt that he is any the wiser about what is thought of him."

"The very same things that you think yourself, is that it?"

"I do not wish to have this conversation again."

"Good, because there are things that are not for young ladies' ears," their father said commandingly, as if he had not been the root cause of their hearing far worse things in their childhoods.

"The Duke is here for you, Lady Diana," the butler announced in the doorway.

Diana had never been happier to have a meal interrupted.

The Duke was waiting for her in the hallway, and as much as Diana did not wish to see it, she could not help but notice how he lit up when he saw her. She wondered if she had been doing the same thing so noticeably, and from the way her heart was fluttering in her chest, she had to admit that it must have been the case.

"Have you read what has been said about you of late, Your Grace?" she asked as they walked. "I do not mean to pry, and if you do not wish to discuss it, then we need not do so."

"I am aware of what people say about me if that is what you mean."

"Not exactly. Frankly, I do not even know what people say about you in the ton , but I received this, this morning."

She handed him the gossip rag, and he scanned it before handing it back to her.

"Pay it no mind."

"What?"

"There is no need to pay any attention to it. Truly, I do not understand why ladies read them in the first place."

"It is not only ladies that read them, I assure you."

"No, of course not. Ladies that have nothing better to do, children that wish to learn about ton in the only way available to them, and servants that could be doing far more appropriate things."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you see what I mean? You ladies wish to be spoken to as if you are gentlemen, but then when we do so, you act like this. Such words are not for your ears. Might we leave the matter there?"

"We certainly will not. I shall have you know that plenty of gentlemen read these, whether they care to admit it or not. As for your thoughts on servants, it astonishes me that you would say such things when yours cater to your every need. You do not know what it is like to struggle."

"You do not know a thing about me, and you shall refrain from acting otherwise."

"You will not be telling me what to do. Certainly not whilst we are not married."

They continued walking for a moment, and Diana knew that she should have been angry, but instead, she was confused. Something had to have happened since their last promenade because this was not the gentleman she had come to know. He was not the sort to snap at her, or show anger, or to have such views as those he had expressed.

"Regardless of what you might think," he said after a while, "these scandal sheets mean nothing. It is never the truth that is printed, and the only ones that believe it are those incapable of thinking about matters for more than a few mere seconds."

"Women, children, and servants if I am understanding correctly, though it is entirely possible that as a weak-minded and simple lady, I have it all wrong."

"That is not what I meant."

"Yes, it is."

Silence fell again. To be sure, Diana pitied the Duke and all of the rumors swirling about him, but in any case, that gave him no right to speak to her that way.

"All I am trying to say is that you do not need to listen to these things," he sighed. "I am trying to help you."

"Well, offending my entire sex in the process is not the most tactful way to approach it."

"No, you are right."

She wanted to continue with her comments, but an admittance that she was right was as close to an apology as she could expect, so she let it go.

"So you truly do not care?"

"No, not at all. Why should I care? If they are not willing to say it to my face, then that is simply because they are too cowardly to say it to me themselves, and never is that more prevalent than it is for anonymous scribblers whose income is exclusively tied to creating rumors."

Had he said it in that way the first time, she was more likely to have listened to him.

"Surely it gets to you though, after a while."

"If I do not read it, then it cannot get to me. I have all the power this way, you see?"

"I suppose that makes sense."

"Lady Diana, if you do not wish to act in a manner that allows you to hide from such things, then you cannot be surprised when you are an outcast for it. It is not a bad thing to have this happen to you, but you must accept that it will happen so long as you give them something to say."

"I have always tried to act in a becoming manner," she argued. "I had to, otherwise it put Samantha's standing in jeopardy, and I could not risk that. I never could."

"And that is why you took her place, is that it?"

"It wasn't just that. I want her to be happy, and marrying you would not have done that, and it would have broken my heart if?—"

"If all of your work had been for nothing."

"If all of her work had been for nothing. Had she wanted to marry you, I would have stepped aside and wished her every happiness."

"But she does not wish to marry at all, she told me herself."

"And she has told me. It is quite a shame, because she would be a wonderful wife."

"In which case, worrying for her standing is quite?—"

"Illogical, yes," she replied with a laugh. "I am quite aware."

"It is alright. She is fortunate to have you there for her."

"Do you have anyone to do that for you, Your Grace?"

His face fell, and he faltered.

"No," he replied. "Not since my mother passed."

"I apologize, Your Grace. I did not mean to pry."

"It is quite alright. I am aware that our situations are quite similar, you know."

"Yes, I suppose they are."

"Now, I do not mean to pry myself, but if you do not mind telling me, what happened?"

Diana bristled. She had not talked about what happened to her mother all that time ago, never out loud, even to her own sister. Samantha had never outright asked, and Diana had never made a point to inform her. It was almost an unspoken rule between the two of them that one would not ask and the other would not tell, and nobody else had ever cared enough to try.

"There was a fire."

She said it before she had decided whether or not she was going to.

"My sincerest apologies," he said gently. "If it is too recent?—"

"It was a long time ago. Samantha was a baby, and I was six years old. To this day, we do not know how it started, but it ended with a beam falling. It landed on my mother as she was trying to escape, and she could not move. She handed Samantha to me and told me to go, and I did."

"You did the right thing, in case you ever question that."

"Of course, it meant that I saved Samantha's life. I thought my mother might have found a way out, you know. I remember staring at the door, willing her to walk through it, but she never did. She must have been so afraid."

"If you ask me, I would say she felt pride and love for the two of you. I think she knew that you were going to take care of your sister no matter what happened, and now look where the two of you are. She would not regret it, I assure you."

"I truly hope not. I can only hope that I have done enough, but with the way Samantha is refusing to marry, I wonder if I might have failed somewhere along the way. It devastates me."

"If you have helped to raise a young lady that knows her own mind and is unafraid to speak it, then you have only succeeded. You ought to be proud of yourself, not chastising yourself. You could not have done anything more for her."

"That is the problem. I could not have done more, but I still wonder if it was enough."

"It was, I assure you."

She hoped that he was right.

"So… your mother?"

"We do not know to this day. She was perfectly healthy, and then there was this illness that consumed her, and within the month she was gone. We never found out quite what it was."

"That sounds awful. How was your father?"

"He never quite managed to understand his loss, not even the day he passed away. He would wander the household at times, according to my staff, searching for her. They say he was driven mad, but I do not wish to speculate."

"Did you ever see him do it?"

"I was not there. That is the thing that I regret. I ran away to my lodgings and never went back. I couldn't face them. I knew that if I were there, there would be conversations that I did not wish to have and plans that I wanted no part in."

"Plans?"

"The funeral. The burial. I could not do them. I tried to picture her there, and it felt wrong. To this day, I wonder what might have been different had I been there. My brother never spoke to me after, of course."

"Brother?" she echoed once more. "You never mentioned a brother."

"Older brother," he said emptily, and that was all he needed to say.

Diana understood perfectly well how a title was passed on.

"Well, it appears we both have regrets," she sighed.

"More than most, to be sure. Perhaps that is why I do not care what is said about me. Nobody is more judgmental of me than I am of myself. It is not something that I notice, in all honesty."

"Surely you must, at least some of the time."

"Some of the time, to be sure, but it is easier to pretend it is not happening. Ignorance is bliss, as they say."

"I wish I could ignore my father." She laughed softly. "He is behaving like a peacock."

"He seems happy. I think it might be best not to question it and allow his happiness to become your own. Might you be able to do that?"

"I have certainly done more difficult things than that."

"You have?"

"That may be a conversation for another time. I have told you quite enough for one day, I believe."

"I could not agree more. I must admit, just now has been the first time that I have spoken of my family in what feels like forever."

"This is why I do sometimes wonder if I want children at all."

"Then we do not need to have any. That is quite alright with me."

"Do you not need an heir?"

"Should I ever want an heir, we can discuss the matter."

Once again, Diana returned to her home, wondering why she trusted him so much. He was changeable and frightening, yet she was not afraid to open up to him and to tell him secrets that she had never dreamed of sharing.

Frankly, she could not wait for the next promenade the following morning.