Page 43 of The Duke of Ruin
“Which is why we need to get on the road tomorrow.” The coachman nodded sharply. “I’ll be ready.”
Simon clasped his retainer’s bicep. Tinley was one of only a small handful of his staff that had stayed on after Miriam had died. “Thank you, Tinley.”
Departing the stable, Simon looked up at the second-floor windows of the inn. He couldn’t see anything—or more importantly, anyone—but decided to give Diana a few more minutes to ensconce herself in bed.
He slowly made his way to the inn. If he’d still been a drinking man, he’d find Woodlawn’s supply of liquor and give Diana many, many minutes.
But he wasn’t that man anymore. When he thought of the time he’d wasted—the women, the gambling, the drinking… It made him angry. And sad and agonizingly full of regret.
He’d always been glad that Miriam hadn’t met him in London. She never would have given him a second glance, let alone allowed him to court her. He suspected Diana would’ve felt the same. She had little tolerance for the life she’d been raised to lead. How could she choose anything other than leaving it behind completely?
The choice seemed clear to him, and it wasn’t a trip to Gretna Green. Though, he’d offer that if she wanted it.
Would he? Could he take her as his duchess? Live with her at Lyndhurst in the shadow of Miriam’s death?
Simon’s heart began to pound, and sweat speckled the back of his neck. It wouldn’t come to that. She’d been horrified by the very idea of it.
And he didn’t blame her one bit.
Chapter 9
Diana edged closerto the fire. She was so cold. From the inside out, she was justcold. And hollow.
Numb.
That was a familiar emotion. She’d schooled herself to feel that way with such frequency and ferocity that it was second nature. It usually provided respite and protection. Tonight, however, she was vulnerable in a way she hadn’t been in a very long time.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to think. Unlike the past, she had choices. She wasn’t being forced into marrying Simon at Gretna Green. She was, however, being forced intosomething.
Throughout their journey north, she’d considered two options: starting over somewhere new or returning to her parents to weather the scandal of her broken engagement and her father’s fury. She still hadn’t quite decided but had been leaning toward starting over. Just the thought of facing her parents after she’d run off made her feel sick.
But to face them now? Now that all of Society would know she’d run off with the Duke of Romsey? Her stomach churned. She didn’t want to contemplate it. Which meant she had to disappear from her life forever.
Simon had promised to help her, and she’d no doubt he would. Even if it meant disaster for himself. With his reputation, it wouldn’t be a stretch for people to believe he’d killed Diana, as he’d killed his first wife.
She could guess how it would play out. She’d disappear. He’d go back to London, and the rumors of their flight would greet him. As would her father’s rage. Very clearly, she saw her father accusing him of disposing of Diana the way he’d disposed of his first wife, assuming he’d even married Diana at Gretna Green.
The agony Simon would suffer, to have to relive his worst moments all over again under the scrutiny of the vicious gossipmongers and scandal-hungry vipers of the ton… It was unconscionable.
And what if he were formally accused of her murder? Could she stay silent in her new life and watch him tried for a crime that hadn’t even occurred?
Of course she couldn’t. But maybe it wouldn’t come to that… Oh God, was she really thinking of throwing him to the wolves, just to save herself?
A soft rap on the door interrupted her dreadful speculation. Was he back so soon? She wasn’t ready.
She trudged to the door and opened it just a small crack. “I’m not—” It was Mrs. Woodlawn, not Simon.
The innkeeper’s wife smiled warmly. “Mr. Byrd asked if I’d come attend you.”
She’d forgotten, as if their conversation had happened hours ago instead of a few minutes. Opening the door wider, she tried to smile but failed. “Come in, please.”
“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” Mrs. Woodlawn said, closing the door behind her.
Diana went to the chair and sat to take off her half boots. Did Mrs. Woodlawn know anything about what had transpired? Diana decided she didn’t have the fortitude to ask. She also didn’t particularly care. Everyone would know soon enough.
Standing, she presented her back to Mrs. Woodlawn, who unlaced her gown. “Your other gown is dry,” Mrs. Woodlawn said. “Mr. Byrd’s clothing isn’t quite. I’ll have it all packed up and ready for you in the morning. I’ll just take your bags downstairs with me when we’re finished.”
A bit of the tension leached from Diana’s frame, and she relaxed under Mrs. Woodlawn’s care. “You are too kind,” Diana said.
