Stealing the Bride (18 page)

The only reply was the words echoing through his mind, as if borne overhead on the hooves of Pegasus.

The bride. The bride. The bride
.

T
he warm light of morning brought answers that the dark of night could never have offered.

Temple awoke to find Diana still cradled in his arms.

Their shared warmth held him spellbound. He gazed at the soft blush of her cheeks, the disarray of curls, and the content, easy smile on her lips. He could well imagine finding her thusly every morning—waking her with soft, teasing kisses that would grow more ardent and hungry as she stirred to life.

And if he knew Diana, a morning kiss would never satisfy her.

Or him.

Yet such dreams were not Temple’s fate. They couldn’t be as long as his life continued as a Gordian knot of obligations and entanglements.

Those fanciful dreams, those fleeting moments fled as she stirred. Temple knew only too well that dreams had no choice but to recede, chased and persecuted by the stark face of morning into the nether reaches from whence they’d come.

The aching need he’d felt the night before was now replaced with that familiar emptiness, a pit of loneliness he’d known all his life.

This was his choice? To live like his grandfather? To turn into a bitter and angry old man?

He let out a frustrated sigh. Diana deserved to be loved, loved with a mindless devotion.

As his father had loved his mother. Passionately. Unapologetically. And yet his father’s love had been his undoing, his greatest weakness.

As Diana was his.

To love her, claim her, marry her would be like leaping into a great abyss. He shook his head, as if standing on that terrifying precipice staring into the black unknown, so very unwilling to take that leap into certain disaster.

At least, he told himself, the pangs of loneliness were familiar, their ache almost a comfort compared to the alternative.

Yet the feeling only worsened when Diana turned her head up and smiled at him.

Her tousled hair lay in a halo of ringlets around her face. This close he could see the tiny path of freckles on the bridge of her nose.

He’d forgotten she had freckles. Hadn’t he once teased her about the delightful little spots, kissing his way across their path, comparing it to steering a course through the heavens?

Yes, when he’d been a young fool. A man who could believe in dreams.

He sighed and let go of those things one could never hold.

She rose and stretched, first his coat falling away, then Stewie’s robes. Temple gazed up at the fair prospect of her back, until he came to a sight that stopped him cold.

There he saw quite plainly what had sent Marden into a state of shock.

He stood up and stared and tried to comprehend what it could mean.

“Temple?” Diana said, glancing over her shoulder. “What is it?” Her eyes were once again full of questions, but her lips held a smile, one for him and only him.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” It had to mean nothing. For it couldn’t be what he thought it was.

And if it was, it meant Diana was in graver danger than even he could have imagined.

Glancing around the awakening countryside, he turned to her and said, “We should be away from here.”

The smile on her face faded to that look of wretched resignation she’d worn for so many years.

The one he hated. The one he’d put there because he had no choice.

Diana hadn’t come this far to give up on Temple yet. She’d seen only too clearly the battle behind his dark gaze.

He wanted her. Of that she had no doubt.

He could have handed her over to Nettlestone or Penham last night. Or even to the French, for that matter.

If she was honest, she’d given him more than enough cause to want to wash his hands of her. But he hadn’t.

And while he’d thought her asleep, he’d stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.

She’d almost rolled over in his arms at that very moment and begged him to admit the truth. That he loved her.

But something held him back. And until she could discover how to untangle whatever bound his feelings in check, find some way to cut him free, there was no use in forcing herself on him.

Kicking at a stone with the toe of her slipper, she cursed when the darn thing turned out to be the tip of what felt like a boulder.

Perhaps that was just what she was trying to do by getting Temple to acknowledge that they belonged together.

Kicking a boulder.

They had ridden for several hours when they came to a small village. The bake shop was open, and Diana sniffed appreciatively at the smell of freshly baked raisin buns.

“Can we stop?” she asked, ignoring the pointed stares of the villagers they passed. Stewie’s robe, decadent and glaring in the evening shadows, was positively bilious in the light of day.

Not to mention that since she was riding astride, her bare legs poked out in a rather indecent display.

“I would like something to eat,” she said.

He glanced over his shoulder. “I gave Elton the last of my coins to pay for the hotel. I fear we are in dun territory until we get to Colin’s.”

“Lord Danvers’?” she sputtered, reining her horse to a halt. “That is where we are going?”

“Well, yes. Where else would we go?”

“I don’t know. I assumed we’d make for some Setchfield stronghold.”

Temple shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but all the duke’s holdings are in the south. The only hope we have is Colin. Now come along.”

Diana held fast. “I cannot possibly go to Lord Danvers’. It wouldn’t be proper.”

Temple’s brow arched. “Thus says the lady riding about the countryside in her chemise?”

At that moment, a matronly lady walked past them. She spared only one brief glance at Diana’s costume, then took a deep, outraged breath and muttered something about “the naked immorality of London” before she continued down the sidewalk.

“I’m hardly naked,” Diana said to the matron’s stiff back. She held out one edge of the purple silk. “This is a robe, I’ll have you know.”

“Is that what it is?” Temple said. “I defer to your wisdom, Grand Vizier Diana.” He bowed and touched his forehead in an exaggerated salaam.

“Oh, do be serious, Temple. You know I can’t possibly arrive on Lord Danvers’ doorstep.”

Temple straightened. “This is hardly a social call.” He eased his horse beside hers and leaned closer. “Colin is the only one who can help us. Besides, it isn’t as if you just tossed him over last week. It’s been nine years since you two parted company. He’s a married man with a passel of children.” He paused and ran a hand through his dark hair. “And if I know Colin and Georgie, there is most likely another wretched little Danvers on the way.”

Diana glanced down. Why couldn’t he see that was exactly why she couldn’t go to Colin’s house? When his life was everything she wanted most in the world.

Temple reached over and caught her chin, tipping her face back to his. “It isn’t Georgie, is it? For she’s quite a gel and not likely to carry any resentments that you were engaged to Colin first. She’s not one for all the manners and rules of Society, believe me.”

“Oh no, it’s not Lady Danvers,” Diana said quickly. Hardly her. She’d seen Georgie a few times in town, in the park with one of her sons or shopping with her daughter. And while the
ton
as a whole shunned the Danverses because of Colin’s treasonous past, Diana had secretly thought that Lady Danvers appeared to be an engaging and interesting woman. One she would like to befriend.

“You don’t still harbor feelings for Colin, do you?”

She bit back a smile at the almost angry tone of his question. “No, Temple. It’s not that.”

“Then I don’t see what the trouble is.”

He wouldn’t understand. For she suspected he didn’t know what it was to long for a hearth and home of one’s own.

Another pair of matrons passed by, both of them sending outraged glances in Diana’s direction.

Temple twisted in his saddle, glancing up and down the street. “You need to get out of those clothes.”

“I hardly think that my performing a reenactment of Lady Godiva is going to endear me to these villagers.”

“No, that’s not it. You are rather…” He glanced her up and down and shook his head. “Noticeable. And we need to disappear.” He sighed. “I doubt any of these tradesmen are going to give me credit. Even if I was inclined to tell them my name, I doubt they’d believe me. We look like a lost pair from a traveling show.”

“We don’t need credit,” Diana said, unwinding his cravat from her waist. “I have money.” She shook the cloth, and a wealth of coins fell into her hand.

“You never cease to amaze me, my lady,” he said, bowing his head.

“I hope I always will,” she said softly.

Half an hour later, they left the local seamstress’s shop with Diana once again properly gowned.

This time her appearance on the village streets drew no more than the usual curious glances that strangers were apt to receive.

“I think that went well,” Temple said.

“Yes, I daresay,” Diana replied. “It cost you nothing.”

He grinned. “And what is wrong with that?”

She shook her head.

“Do we have enough left over for breakfast?” he asked.

“Only if you promise not to tell everyone I am your sister. Or that we were set upon by robbers.”

“Whyever not?” Temple glanced back at the dressmaker’s shop where the dour woman stood in the window, her arms crossed over her slight bosom and a frown still dividing her pinched features.

“Lawd sakes, Temple. No one in their right mind would believe such a fiction. That mantua maker thought I was your doxy. She stuck me four times with pins to show her disapproval.”

“Is that all it takes to get your cooperation?” he said. “I wondered what had made you go so still and quiet. Perhaps you could loan me a farthing or two so I can buy myself a card of pins.”

She laughed and elbowed him good-naturedly.

He offered her the package containing Diana’s costume that the seamstress had begrudgingly wrapped. “If you don’t like your new dress, you could change back to your old ways, oh goddess of the east.”

Shaking her head, Diana said, “No, I think not. But really, did I look like someone’s poor, forlorn sister dressed in my chemise and Stewie’s robe?”

“Let’s just say you look more discreet in your current fashion choice than you did before. Now about breakfast,” he said. “A night outside has left me famished. What say you?”

“Do you think we have the time?”

Temple nodded. “Yes, for once we eat, you’ll find your carriage awaiting you, my lady.”

Diana looked up at the sound of horses and the wheels of a carriage. To her delight, Elton pulled to a stop before them.

“Morning, milady,” he said, doffing his hat to her. “Milord.”

“No trouble finding us?” Temple asked.

Elton looked offended at such a question. “But I wouldn’t suggest waiting around here too long. You left quite a ruckus back there.”

Temple glanced over at Diana.

“I hardly think that was my fault,” she said to both of them.

Elton coughed and sputtered. And then like any good servant, he glanced away and laughed.

Early the next morning, at his cousin’s house, Temple found the answers he was seeking.

At least enough information to know that Pymm had sent him on more than just an honorable errand for an old friend.

“He called her ‘
La mariée
,’” Temple said. “The bride. What the devil does it mean?” He paced in front of the fireplace of Colin’s study.

Colin, Baron Danvers, sat in a chair nearby, watching his cousin through narrowed eyes. “
La mariée
? He called Diana that?” He scratched his chin, his brow furrowed.

“You know what this is about, don’t you?”

His cousin slowly nodded. “I’ve heard rumors. That’s why I returned so early from my last trip.” He paused for a moment. “Napoleon intends to set aside Josephine.”

Temple waved his hand, scoffing at the gossip. “That rumor has been floating around diplomatic and less-than-diplomatic circles for almost two years now. ’Tis nothing but conjecture.”

Colin shook his head. “No. The Emperor has sent out envoys to all the royal houses of Europe, in secret, of course. He wants a royal bride. Someone to lend him an air of nobility to secure his claim to the divine throne of France. Every one of these men knows that if he brings home the right chit, he’ll have his choice of posts. There are rogue agents crawling all over the Continent looking for an impeccable bloodline and willing parents.”

“That hardly explains what they are doing in England,” Temple told him. “In his right mind or not, the King would never allow one of the royal princesses to marry that upstart.”

Rising from behind his desk, Colin crossed the room and stood by the door, as if he expected spies in his own household. After a moment he crossed back to the fireplace and faced Temple. “They aren’t here for one of George’s daughters. They are here for Louis’s daughter.”

“That’s impossible, Louis’s daughter is—”

“Not that one,” Colin said, interrupting Temple’s argument. “Louis’s illegitimate daughter. She’s the one they are looking for.”

“Diana,” Temple whispered, the truth hitting him.

Colin tipped his head and gazed at him. “Something you want to tell me?”

“Not until you tell me everything you know about this supposed bride.”

“Just that Louis had a mistress, his only one, from what I understand. She bore him a daughter, then died of a fever shortly afterward. On her deathbed, she made Louis swear to look after the child, for she knew that the Queen was furious over the entire affair. From there, the information about the child turns into speculation. Some say the King had her spirited away to a convent, others claim that the Queen’s mother, Marie Theresa, got rid of the infant to save her daughter the embarrassment of having a bastard at court.” Colin shrugged. “For some reason, these fellows you’ve encountered believe she was brought here.”

“Pymm knew all this, didn’t he?”

“Of course he did,” Colin said. “And you would have as well, if you hadn’t gone charging out of White’s like a madman.” He grinned at his cousin.