Page 43 of Her Wicked Highwayman
In truth, coming here tonight, finding where she lived, finding her, was all that mattered, not the money. He’d needed to see her, to kiss her, to see if the fire between them hadn’t burned only for one night, and now he had his answer. She was in his blood, in his soul, filling every part of him with wonder and longing. He’d imagined nothing fantastical about what had happened between them a month ago—everything he’d felt that night was just as true as what he feltthisnight.
As he crept out the window and slipped down the vine-covered trellis beneath her window, he felt like a foolish Romeo, but he couldn’t stop smiling. He found his horse grazing in the field where he’d left him, climbed atop the saddle, and rode for home.
CHAPTER 10
Diana had never been to the Lennox family home. In all the years that they had been neighbors, neither family had ever shared a meal or attended a ball at the other’s homes. The deaths of the previous Lord Lennox and Diana’s mother had dealt much grief to both families. She and her father had in many ways closed themselves off after her mother died and Eleanor ran away to get married. Perhaps it had been the same for the Lennox family.
She knew that the current Lord Lennox’s mother entertained in London, but Lennox himself kept his country estate fairly quiet when it came to balls and parties. It was as though the Foxes and the Lennoxes had quite...forgotteneach other.
Diana now had a chance to take in the Lennox home with fresh eyes. The lawns had been manicured, the flowers perfectly planted, and the hedges trimmed in marvelous patterns. It was the way Foxglove used to look before her mother died. Even though she worked as hard as the rest of her staff, the best she could do was keep her grounds from looking like a shambles. This estate, on the other hand, sang directly to her soul. That pang of longing for the past dug into her heart, but she couldnot step into the mirror world from her dreams and be with her family again. The only way now was forward.
She slid off the back of her horse before the groom could meet her.
“My apologies, miss,” he gasped as he arrived and grasped the reins. He had practically sprinted toward her once he’d spotted her, but she was so accustomed to dismounting on her own that she had forgotten it was expected to allow someone to assist her.
“No, I am sorry. I was in such haste to go inside.” She patted her horse’s neck before she let the groom lead it away to the stables.
The butler guided her into the house. She let out a deep breath to steady her nerves. She’d had Mrs. Ripley prepare her best day gown, which was a sensible rose-colored muslin dress with flowers embroidered on the capped sleeves, hem, and bodice. Mrs. Ripley had cleverly concealed the wear and tear of the gown by adding such embellishments as bees and hummingbirds along her sleeves wherever the cloth had worn thin.
Diana pushed away her shame and lifted her chin. She was fit to be in this fine house with its new furnishings, expensive tapestries, and marble statuary. Her gaze drifted about the entryway, her curiosity piqued. She’d heard Lord Lennox was a cold man, but there was nothing cold about this house. Despite the fine feel of everything around her, it still felt warm and welcoming.
Perhaps that was because of Rosalind’s presence. Lennox had been intense, but at the same time, very gentle and sympathetic when she’d met him at the ball last night. If either of them noticed her worn, old gown, she did not believe they would judge her too harshly. Rosalind had extended this invitation,after all, and she was well aware of Diana’s situation after last night.
Diana was shown into a brightly decorated drawing room and left alone while the butler went to find his mistress. A tall portrait of Lennox and his wife hung on the wall opposite her, those blue eyes flashing, so reminiscent of the pair of eyes she’d taken to dreaming about nightly. It reminded her of how she’d woken and found Tyburn gone this morning... and he’d taken her necklace with him. She reached up and touched her throat, her fingers caressing the bare skin. Her gown suddenly felt overwarm and itchy against her sensitive skin as it longed to be touched by Tyburn’s hands rather than cloth.
A blush warmed her cheeks as she recalled how it had felt to make love so wantonly to Tyburn last night, and how she had slept far better in his arms than she had in years. She’d felt freed in a way she’d never thought was possible. She’d done things that would have made the most trained courtesans blush, but she didn’t regret a moment of it. She’d made herself vulnerable in a thousand ways last night and had been so eager to please him and to satisfy herself, but the experience had been more than physical. They’dneededeach other last night, to hold each other in the dark, limbs entwined, their breaths mixing as they shared her bed.
When her hand had reached across the bed only to find a cold pillow, a part of her heart had ached. Was she always going to miss that mysterious stranger with such a deep ache? She rubbed her arms and wished she had thought to bring a shawl. She hoped her long sleeves would be enough if the weather turned colder.
She gazed out the tall windows, letting the sunlight warm her as she wondered what Tyburn was up to now. Was he sleeping in after the long ride back to wherever his new hiding spot was?He and his friends would certainly have abandoned the hunting lodge, which meant he was laying his head on a different pillow.
But not my pillow.
She gazed out at the dark-green lawns when an odd, prickling sensation tickled the back of her neck, like she was being watched. The door to the drawing room had been left open by the butler as he exited the room, but she saw no one standing there. Yet that sense of being watched had not left her. Careful not to spook her invisible watcher, she turned away from the window and walked to the bookshelves against one wall, pretending to study the titles.
A soft thud sounded behind her. She peered over her shoulder and hid a smile as she saw a tiny head adorned with russet curls duck behind the settee. A child. Diana pretended to finish her examination of the books and wandered toward the settee. She sat down, arranged her skirts, and let out a loud dramatic sigh.
“What apityI haveno oneto talk to while I wait.”
There was another little thud from just behind her, and a little voice whispered, “Mrs. Crumpet, she said she wants someone to talk to.” The voice was Scottish and utterly adorable. Diana bit her lip, holding back a giggle. She waited very patiently until, out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a porcelain doll head rise up behind the settee just over Diana’s shoulder as if it was looking at her. Then the doll dropped down out of sight.
“What did ye see, Mrs. Crumpet?” the little voice asked. “Is she a nice lady?”
More silence.
Diana couldn’t hide the grin this time. The child was having a conversation with her doll. “I’m sure Mrs. Crumpet would tell you I’m very nice,” Diana said to the back of the settee.
“Did ye hear that?” the girl whispered to her doll.
“If you come out, I would be most delighted to talk to you.” Diana leaned over the back of the settee just as the child stood up. Diana stared transfixed at the most beautiful child she’d ever seen. Her solemn blue eyes stirred something deep within Diana, something that filled her chest with a tightness of both pain and a love that she could not fathom.
“Are ye here to see Uncle Ash?” the girl asked.
“Uncle Ash?” Rosalind had three dashing brothers, and all of them were married. This little angel must be one of theirs.
She offered the little girl her hand. “I’m Diana.”
The girl stared at it before she grasped it with surprising strength. “I’m Isla.”
