Page 61 of To Love and to Loathe
“A comforting thought, is it not?” Diana asked her.
“It’s much morepleasantwith a man,” Violet said, seeming to think that her instruction session had veered a bit off course. “If one’s inclinations lie in that direction, I mean.”
“Still, this is useful knowledge,” Emily mused. She blinked and redirected her attention to Diana. “But what does all of this have to do with whatever is bothering you?”
“Oh,” Diana said, her smile fading; for a moment, she had forgotten what she’d come here to discuss in the first place. “Well…” She paused. Her insides squirmed. The thought of being candid about how she felt—about how shetrulyfelt, and about Jeremy, of all people—made the idea of flinging herself off the roof sound more appealing than it probably should… and yet wasn’t that the root of her problem? If she could not voice her feelings to her two closest friends, to Violet and Emily, whom she’d known for half her life, how could she ever muster the courage to tell Jeremy himself?
“It made me think, for a moment, about how much more difficultlife is for people like Lady Helen. And for men who prefer men. About what they’re willing to risk, just to be with the person they love.” She paused, her mind still working, snagging on one thing in particular. “And about how marriage probably doesn’t seem like a trap to them at all, but a glorious, impossible dream.” Marriage had never felt like that to her—but it had, once upon a time, been a means of escape, and she had reached for it eagerly with both hands. If marriage to Templeton, a man she had barely known and had not loved, could have been an escape, how much more could it be with a man she cared for—and desired—a great deal?
“Marriage has never felt like a trap to me,” Violet said carefully, clearly recognizing how difficult it had been for Diana to speak even this much. “Even when James and I were in our worst moments, when we were sitting silently across the dinner table from one another, not saying a word, it never felt like a trap. It felt like something precious and wonderful that we had broken.”
“Marriage to someone of my own choosing is more than I have ever truly hoped for,” Emily said quietly. “It still seems out of my reach. But I am starting to think that if there is someone who makes that risk worthwhile, it might be worth taking.” She paused, a distant expression on her face; Diana and Violet watched her eagerly, and when she did not continue speaking after a moment, Violet broke the silence.
“Emily,” she said slowly, “has Belfry proposed to you?”
Emily shook her head. “Not in so many words. But he’s implied… well, he’s told me that he has more than enough money to pay off my father’s gambling debts—and that he knows something about Mr. Cartham, something about his past, that he could use to end Mr. Cartham’s blackmail of my father. I could be free,” she added, her voice faltering on the word, one she clearly barely even dared voice for fearit would vanish in a puff of smoke. “It would not be a love match, of course—but I like the fact that he spoke honestly to me. He… respects me.” Her tone was slightly wondering, as if this was something she had not thought possible, and Diana felt painfully sad for Emily, in a way she’d not felt in a while.
“In any case, he hasn’t even properly asked,” Emily said, her manner more businesslike all of a sudden. “But I’m starting to think that it might be worth the risk.”
For the second time that day, Diana was struck by her own cowardice. Lady Helen was willing to risk her reputation, her very future to be with the woman she loved; Emily was willing to risk marriage to a man she barely knew, to have some taste of freedom. But she, Diana, could not even risk uttering three small words, and seeing if Jeremy returned them?
“You’re making me feel rather ashamed of myself, all of a sudden,” she confessed. “My own romantic problems seem rather pitiful by comparison.”
“Is this about Jeremy?” Violet asked.
Diana sighed, nodding. “We came to our current arrangement under the understanding that it was to be temporary, mutually beneficial, and that we would go our separate ways when it ceased to please us both. But…”
She trailed off, at a loss to explain the complex whirlwind of emotions that had taken up residence within her without her consent. That was the trouble with feelings—they so rarely appeared when it was convenient, and even more rarely did they appear in a desirable configuration. It was one of the many reasons she had done her best to protect herself against them, but a certain maddening marquess had apparently fought his way through her defenses.
“Speaking to Lady Helen today gave me much to think on, appalling as that is to admit,” she said at last. “And it occurred to me that if she is willing to risk her name, her entire future, all to have some semblance of a life with the person she loves… well, it strikes me as being rather cowardly that I refuse to speak a fraction of my feelings.” And, indeed, she did not feel at all brave as she spoke these words aloud—so accustomed was she to keeping her deepest feelings tucked close against her heart that even this hedging sort of admission, which did notreallyadmit anything at all, made her feel naked and exposed in a way that was utterly terrifying.
And yet, she knew that the words she had just spoken were true—and if there was one thing she could not stand the thought of being, it was a coward. She took a deep breath.
“I think I love Jeremy,” she said quietly, forcing herself to state the words simply, without hesitation. “I’ve no ideawhy,” she added, unable to help herself, “considering he’s vain and maddening and I can barely converse with him without wanting to stab him with a fork, but apparently that is what love looks like for me. And,” she added, her mind lingering on the look in his eye when he gazed at her sometimes, as though marveling at her very existence, “I think he might love me, too—though, being a man, I expect he’s too dense to realize it.” As she spoke, identical grins spread across Violet and Emily’s faces; at the same time, she could not help noting—rather grumpily—that neither of them looked remotely surprised.
“I can’t say this comes as a shock,” Violet said, confirming this impression; next to her, Emily had clasped her hands together, an expression of rapturous joy upon her face.
“Don’t get too excited,” Diana warned. “I’m hardly about to start spouting off sonnets.”
“So what will you do?” Violet asked. There was a gleam in her eye that Diana recognized all too well, and she knew that she would be spending the next fortnight feigning a wasting disease for Jeremy’s benefit if she did not head Violet off.
“I think I will… well, I think I will speak to Willingham.” It sounded rather pathetic, put like that—it didn’t sound like much action at all, no matter what it felt like deep within her. “I shall speak honestly to him at last.”
“And agree to marry!” Emily cried joyfully.
“Certainly not,” Diana said, alarmed. “I was thinking more that I should indicate that we should continue our liaison for a longer duration than we originally envisioned. I don’t wish to spook him, after all—men and horses really are remarkably similar, you know.”
“O, Diana of the romantic soul,” Violet intoned dramatically, clutching at her own chest. “The bards will sing of this most heart-rending of gestures.”
“That is quite enough of that,” Diana said acerbically. She cast Emily, who appeared to be stifling laughter, a withering look. “From both of you,” she added. “I think I shall start small and see how things progress. I’m not…” She trailed off for a moment, hesitating. “I’m notaverseto the idea of marrying Jeremy, if I absolutely had to marry again”—even admitting this much made her feel as though she were stripping naked and parading down the street, so vulnerable did she feel—“but I shall begin by simply telling him how I feel. This is all rather new to me, you know.Emotions,” she clarified, seeing their confused looks. “Communication.”
Violet heaved a long-suffering sigh. “It is a shame you were born a woman, Diana, truly it is. You have the emotional range of the most repressed English gentleman at your very core.”
Diana arched a brow. “Coming from the lady who recently spent a fortnight coughing into handkerchiefs whilst refusing to have a single honest conversation with her husband? I think I might be excused for not being overly wounded by your critique.”
To this, Violet—satisfyingly—had no reply.
Twenty-Two
