Page 44 of The Duke of Ruin
“I’m happy to help. You and Mr. Byrd are such a fine pair.”
This praise gave Diana a thought: perhaps she ought to reinvent herself as an actress. Her lips quirked up, and she had to swallow a laugh.
Mrs. Woodlawn helped take the gown over Diana’s head, then assisted with the petticoat before setting to work on Diana’s corset. “It’s been so lovely to have you and the Tafts and the others here during the snowstorm. I so enjoyed watching the children play. My own wee ones aren’t so wee anymore. My first grandchild will be here in the spring.”
Grateful for a subject that didn’t involve the scandal she was now facing, Diana looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Woodlawn. “How wonderful.”
“Oh, it is indeed. My daughter has had some difficulty—she’s lost a few babes—but this one seems to have rooted.”
And there was another reason Diana wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the state of marriage. There would be children, and while she wasn’t opposed to them, the begetting of them could be quite harrowing. Furthermore, what if she was a terrible mother? What if she’d learned how to treat a child from the way her parents had treated her?
Mrs. Woodlawn stepped back. “All done, I think.”
Diana could finish undressing and get ready for bed on her own. “Thank you, Mrs. Woodlawn.”
“I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but you seem to have a bit of a dark cloud tonight. I hope everything is all right with you and Mr. Byrd. He’ll be a good helpmate to you, far better than most of the gentlemen who come through here. It’s clear he loves you very much.”
Perhaps Simon should join her on the stage. Too bad dukes couldn’t disappear. He’d tried, hadn’t he? Traveling about as Byrd and yet being recognized as Romsey in spite of his efforts.
Diana merely nodded in response. “We appreciate your hospitality very much.”
“I do hope you’ll stop on your way back—if you come this way.”
Of course they wouldn’t. Diana wouldn’t want to risk running into anyone like Sir Fletcher and his wife. And this inn was too large, too easy to get to. If not for the storm, they never would’ve stopped here. Instead, they would’ve found their usual small, out-of-the-way lodging, and their masquerade would be intact.
Mrs. Woodlawn stoked the fire up and found their bags before going to the door. “Good night, Mrs. Byrd.”
“Good night,” Diana said. “And thank you again.”
She finished preparing for bed, swapping her clothing for her night rail hanging on the hook on the wall. As she slipped into the cool bed, she shivered and burrowed deep beneath the blankets. Rubbing her hands together to generate heat, she drew her legs up until she likely resembled a round lump.
Only a few minutes passed before she heard the latch click. Peering over the edge of the blankets, she made out Simon’s shape as he closed the door and moved quietly into the room. Normally, she would close her eyes and will herself to sleep before he joined her, but tonight, she didn’t. She watched him as he undressed in front of the fire, the light from the flames dancing across his bare torso as he stripped down to just his breeches.
He grabbed his night shirt and drew it over his head before removing the lower half of his clothing. Pity, she’d hoped to catch a glimpse of him nude.
She had?
And why not? She was curious. Their journey would be over soon, and then she’d likely never see him again. She’d expected to perhaps feel sad—she’d come to like him more than she’d anticipated—but after the kiss they’d shared, it was more than that.
That kiss… She’d spent far too much time thinking of her plight rather than relishing that glorious experience. It was another reason to loathe Sir Fletcher and his wife, for they’d interrupted a truly spectacular moment.
The desire that had sparked in her belly earlier that night kindled anew as she watched him. She recalled his hands on her back, the press of his chest against hers, the thrill of his tongue in her mouth. Suddenly, she wasn’t cold anymore.
She stretched her legs out—she had to in order to give him room—and heard him move toward the bed. Closing her eyes, she decided to feign sleep. The mattress dipped with his weight, and she caught the scent of spice and leather. She could reach out and touch him, restart what had been stolen from them earlier…
“I can’t just disappear.” She whispered, but her voice was heavy in the quiet room.
“Of course you can. Don’t worry about money or anything else. I’ll take care of it.”
“I can’t let you do that. You’d be blamed for my…disappearance.”
He inhaled sharply but said nothing. He lay on his back staring at the ceiling.
Diana gazed at his profile. He was an exceptionally handsome man, with a strong nose and a mouth that could deliver so much delight.
“I’m the subject of blame every day,” he finally said. “This won’t alter anyone’s perception of me.”
She propped her head on her hand, jutting her elbow into the pillow. “It could make it worse. Besides, you aren’t guilty of anything.”
