Page 22 of Enslaved
Peter stood up. “Today’s mores dictate that the ladies leave the table while the gentlemen enjoy their port, but tonight we shall do things the Elizabethan way. This is hippocras, warmed and spiced the way it was served to the Queen over two hundred years ago. I propose a toast to Lady Diana Davenport. Hardwick cries out for a chatelaine as lovely as you to grace her hallowed halls.”
The wine was full-bodied and its warmth spread along Diana’s veins like wildfire. Taking their spiced hippocras, they left Prudence sitting at table while they went off to explore the manor.
He showed her the small lady chapel, the still room where perfume was distilled from Hardwick’s own roses and herbs. In the ballroom Peter had had the servants set ablaze hundreds of candles in the chandeliers, and from the minstrels’ gallery above them, music floated down from what could only be a virginal.
He held out his arms and Diana went into them. As they danced, she closed her eyes and imagined herself truly in Elizabethan times. She was wearing the identical jade gown with a frothy ruff about her neck. She felt exactly as if she had done this before with another partner who flexed his powerful muscles to lift her high in the gay galliard. She smiled down into his black eyes with happiness, and then his face changed back into Peter’s.
As he set her feet back to the polished floor, he drew her against him and whispered, “Let’s escape out on the parapet walk.” She placed her hand in his, and like two conspirators, they slipped away from the ballroom.
Leaning against the crenellated stones, bathed in moonlight, Diana let the magic of the night wash over her. This small palace was so warm and welcoming, it felt as if it had been waiting for her for two centuries, and now at last she had finally come home. The very atmosphere was charged with romance. Diana knew she had fallen in love, but did not believe it was possible to love the man as she did the house. “You haven’t shown me the Queen’s bedchamber,” she murmured dreamily.
Diana spoke the words he had been waiting to hear. In the darkness, Peter smiled at his own cleverness. “I’ve saved the best ’til last. There is a secret passage,” he whispered.
“No!” she cried, utterly captivated. One of the chimneys opened to reveal steps leading downward. “Won’t we need a light?”
“Just hold on to me, sweet. We’ll feel our way along.” She clung to his hand and placed the other one on his broad back. She could feel the muscle beneath the material and blushed into the darkness. So much strength he kept under control. What would happen if he unleashed that strength? She shivered at the thought. The darkness and the confined space combined with the excitement of the adventure made her breathless. She was ready to scream, when suddenly a door creaked open and light flooded the passage.
Peter drew her inside and closed the secret door behind them. It was the most impressive chamber Diana had ever seen. It was extremely large with a massive stone fireplace covering one entire wall. Above the mantel was a pair of portraits. One was Elizabeth I in a black velvet gown encrusted with crystals and pearls and the other was a portrait of the first Earl of Bath. His black eyes were brilliant in his darkly proud face.
Before the fire was a pair of “his” and “hers” chairs, hooded against the drafts, and between the chairs was a games table inlaid with ivory and ebony squares. Exquisitely carved jade chessman were set out invitingly.
The far end of the room held bookshelves from floor to ceiling, their leather-bound volumes all embossed with goldleaf. An eight-foot desk with silver inkwells, silver sand caster, and quill holder was covered by letters, documents, and maps as if someone had just been interrupted while hard at work. A four-poster with heavy, velvet bedcurtains dominated the chamber. All was done in the Tudor colors of green and white embroidered with small golden crowns and lions. The entire chamber was fragrant with sandalwood.
“It’s simply perfect,” Diana sighed. In her green velvet gown she became Elizabeth for one magic moment. She closed her eyes, wishing this chamber could be hers. When she opened them, Peter had poured her a glass of bloodred wine. Diana knew she had already drunk enough to make her a little unsteady, but somehow it seemed right to take the wine and behave a little recklessly. She drained the glass and felt a bloodred rose blossom in her breast.
Peter took the glass from her fingers, then pulled her urgently toward him. His demanding mouth came down on hers, forcing her lips to open for him. He deepened the kiss passionately and moved his hands to the fastenings at the back of her gown.
Suddenly the door swung open and Mark Hardwick stepped over the threshold into his chamber. Diana gasped and pulled out of Peter’s arms. Her hand flew to the bodice of her jade gown as the back gaped open.
“Mark! What the devil are you doing home tonight?”
“My business in Bristol was finished,” his brother said matter-of-factly. “What the devil areyoudoing?”
“Proposing, actually. Lady Diana and I are engaged to be married.”
Diana wanted to protest, but all she could think of in that moment was fleeing from the arrogant Earl of Bath’s cynical gaze. It was now palpably obvious that this was his chamber. “Then I suppose congratulations are in order,” the earl said smoothly. “Welcome to the family.”
Diana knew she was totally compromised. If she denied the engagement, she was admitting playing the whore. Her lashes swept down to her cheeks. “Please excuse me, both of you.”
A wave of protectiveness swept over Mark Hardwick. Diana Davenport was so young, so lovely. He wondered if she had any idea that she was sacrificing herself to a brutal young swine.
“Well, are you or are you not?” Prudence demanded as the carriage took them away from Hardwick Hall back to Queen Square.
“Yes … and no,” Diana replied, her thoughts anywhere but on their conversation.
“Well, that’s as clear as mud! And why are we rushing off at the crack of dawn like thieves in the night?” Prudence demanded, mixing metaphors. “It looks like you are running away.”
“I suppose I am,” Diana admitted. She knew Prudence deserved some sort of explanation for her sudden bolt from Hardwick Hall. “The Earl of Bath returned unexpectedly late last night and Peter told him we were engaged to be married.”
Prudence sagged into the corner. “Thank heavens! I thought he’d never get the deed done.”
Diana bristled. “The point is, Peter didn’t ask and I didn’t accept.”
“Details. Inconsequential details. Believe me, if the earl has been informed, you are very definitely engaged.”
“Perhaps,” Diana replied tentatively. She had taken the coward’s way out, asking Mr. Burke to have the carriage take them back to Bath and giving him a letter for Peter.
Last night she had been both angry and humilated that he had compromised her, especially before his arrogant brother. It was as if he had deliberately sprung a trap on her. If she had stayed this morning, there would have been a terrible scene, probably involving both Prudence and the earl, and that was the last thing Diana wanted.
