Virginia Henley (6 page)

Within the hour, plans for the trip were under way Biddy was rushed off her feet packing for Prudence. Diana packed very little; she would indulge in a shopping spree that would set Bath on its ear! She went to the library to choose a book for the journey. As she ran her fingers across the gilt titles, she paused to think about what effect this trip
to Bath might have upon her future. The image of Peter Hardwick came full-blown into her mind as she relived their last exchange of words: “I’m most flattered for your invitation, Peter, but I shan’t be coming to Bath.”

“You shall!” he had vowed.

Diana shivered at the memory of the look she had seen in his eyes.

“Biddy, take the seat next to Lady Diana. I shall need this one to myself. Just pop that cushion next to my painful hip—carefully, girl, carefully—and we can be under way.”

Diana, dreading the trip of one hundred miles confined in a closed carriage with Prudence, had fortified herself with a volume of Ovid from her father’s library. Knowing it was overtly sensual, she had tucked it into a copy of the
Bath Chronicle.
She leafed through the book until she found “The Art of Love.” She did not exactly learn the things she wished to know, but she certainly learned that the Romans believed woman was created to be man’s plaything and considered all females to be unchaste voluptuaries. Oyid’s amorous tactics were pure eroticism: the art of enjoying a woman’s body as fully and delightfully as possible.

Annoyed that Ovid omitted a woman’s mind or personality completely, Diana snapped closed the volume, then inwardly groaned because the noise awakened Prudence. From that moment until they stopped at Reading for the night, Diana listened to Prudence propound on her favorite subject. Respectability!

The following day the drive seemed endless, so Diana allowed her thoughts to drift ahead to their destination. She couldn’t wait to see Bath. Its antiquity was legendary. It had been built by the Romans, who had called it Aquae Sulis. The very name conjured pictures that fired her imagination.

When the chaise descended the final hill and crossed
the bridge sporting graceful arches, the sunset had turned Bath into a city of gold. Diana caught her breath, utterly enchanted by such beauty. In that moment she vowed that she would enjoy Bath to the full. She was filled with a thirst for life and she decided this would be the most glorious time she would ever have!

When James paid the toll to enter the city and asked directions to Queen Square, he was informed that Bath was a city for pedestrians and he would have to take the chaise to the White Swan Inn for stabling after he had delivered the ladies to their house.

Though Diana would have preferred a house with a view across the River Avon to the woods and hills beyond where sheep and horses grazed, she had to own that Queen Square was a more convenient location. The fashionable square had been designed by Wood to resemble the courtyard of a palace. Outside, the house had a high facade of Bath stone with pedimented windows. Inside, the elegant house had two communicating L-shaped drawing rooms wrapped around a staircase. The boudoirs and dressing rooms were upstairs while the kitchen and servants’ quarters were below the ground floor.

Diana was amused to see that Richard had spent so freely of her money. The house came with a cook, an upstairs maid, and a butler. Prudence began issuing orders the moment her foot was across the threshold. She informed the staff that she was here for the cure and that her condition was delicate, then ordered a dinner that would kill a female with less than a robust and hardy constitution.

When Prudence pleaded exhaustion, Diana and Biddy helped her upstairs, where she proceeded to issue orders from her bed until midnight. She asked so many questions of the staff that the butler finally produced a map that laid out the entire city, row by row. She couldn’t understand it, of course, and kept Diana at her bedside for two more hours while she pointed out the Grand Parade, the Pump Room, the Assembly Rooms, the Baths, and the Octagonal Chapel.

When Prudence did not appear for breakfast, Diana seized the moment and set out to explore Bath on her own. She was interested in learning the location of the shops, the subscription libraries, and where the hot springs began down by the river. Diana felt free as a bird escaped from its cage. Excitement tingled along every nerve at the thought of being able to choose clothes for herself.

She sauntered along Milsom Street, gazing into shop windows, carefully reading the signs above the doors, trying to decide which establishment would receive her custom. The largest shop was La Belle Mode; its proprietress, Madame Madeleine, who greeted Lady Diana warmly as she opened the door and stepped inside.

“Is there something in particular you are interested in, mademoiselle?”

“Oh yes, everything really.” Diana was entranced at the gowns on display. The shop also had slippers, fans, and every feminine accessory to complete a lady’s wardrobe. She glanced about, noting the fine French furnishings, and then she saw it. Easily the loveliest gown she had ever seen, and she knew she must have it or die. It was jade velvet with a heart-shaped neckline and gathered waist. It had classic lines that would have been fashionable in any age.

Diana’s imagination pictured herself at Elizabeth’s Court wearing the gown, with a magnificent ruff added, of course. It was the vivid color, however, that drew her fancy. “The jade gown—may I try it on, please?”

Madame Madeleine led her into a dressing room and helped her remove her insipid pink daydress. Diana felt compelled to explain to the fashionably gowned Frenchwoman, “I don’t care for pastels. I prefer gowns in jewel tones that set off my fair coloring.”

“I agree—the jade will be perfect.” She stared in disbelief at the old-fashioned corset. “Ah, you will need a new corset perhaps, mademoiselle?”

“Oh no, I hate corsets, but my aunt insists I be fitted for the nasty things.”

“No, no—you misunderstand. I refer to the latest fashion, the half-corset. A pretty little garment that merely nips in the waist and uplifts the breasts.”

“Really? Well yes, it certainly sounds like an improvement on the garment I’m wearing. I’ll try one on.”

“Bon!
What about color—you prefer naughty or nice?”

Diana blinked. “I prefer naughty, every time!”

Madame Madeleine came back carrying a lacy froth of scarlet and began the task of untying the strings of the rigid, cagelike contraption Diana was laced into.

Lady Diana took a gasp of air as her ribcage was allowed to expand and her breasts sprang up from their unnaturally flattened state. She donned the new garment and stared in amazement at the apparition in the mirror. It couldn’t possibly be her. The red half-corset made her waist almost disappear, yet her breasts were lush. They were pushed up so that her curves swelled from the top of the lacy garment in the sauciest and most provocative way.

The bell on the shop door tinkled merrily. “Excuse me, mademoiselle, I will be back in a moment.”

Diana, completely enchanted with her new look, hardly heard her. She twisted this way and that, posing before the glass. Even her legs clad in her silk stockings looked longer. This corset did not encase her hips, but ended just before the natural swell of her derriere curved outward, exposing her white linen drawers.

Diana looked and felt wicked as original sin and she absolutely relished it. What a pity no one would see such ravishing undergarments. She felt more female than she had ever felt before and longed for the entire world to see how stunning the New Lady Diana Davenport had become. I
wonder if it comes in black?
she asked herself. Then she slowly became aware of people talking.

“Mark, darling, I’d like to try this one.”

“By all means,” a man replied.

Diana was brought out of her reverie by the familiar
male voice. She would know it anywhere! Its deep timbre sent a shiver up her spine. She was annoyed that he had such an effect upon her.

“Ah, mademoiselle, another lady wishes to try this gown.”

“Oh, Mark, only think how the jade will compliment my hair,” the plummy voice cajoled.

Diana’s anger flared instantly. The Earl of Bath had picked up a woman and was already buying her gowns. Well, one thing was certain—he wasn’t going to buy the bloody woman
her
gown!

“Talk the other lady out of it; I’ll make it worth your while,” Hardwick said smoothly, as if he were used to ordering the world.

Diana hesitated because of her deshabille, then a wicked smile curved her lips as she realized the she-devil inside her was running rampant again. She threw open the dressing room door, stalked into the showroom, and swept the jade gown from the redhead’s possessive hands.

“Oooh, how dare you!” Vivian screeched.

“This gown is mine,” Diana asserted regally.

Mark Hardwick’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared in pure male appreciation of the ravishing beauty clad in the provocative scarlet corset.

“I beg to differ!” Vivian hissed.

“You can beg ’til your hair dye tarnishes,” Diana said blandly.

“Do you know who this is?” Vivian spluttered, indicating the nobleman who accompanied her.

“Indeed I do,” Diana drawled. “The Earl of Bath and I are old adversaries. Do you know who I am, by the way?”

“No, I do not!” Vivian shouted.

“I,” said Diana, a delicious smile curving her lips, “am the owner of the jade gown.”

Madame Madeleine was wise enough to hold her silence when two bitches fought over the same bone.

Hardwick’s countenance was grave, though he did not miss the humor of the situation.

Vivian turned to him for aid. “Mark, do something!”

“I’ll buy you
two
gowns to replace the jade one,” he soothed.

Lady Diana turned to the redhead and said confidentially, “Have a care, his lordship likes to get his money’s worth.”

The earl was no longer amused, but he could see by the light in Diana’s amethyst eyes that she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

The Countess of Belgrave turned upon her heel and flounced from the shop. Hardwick picked up his hat and cane, having no alternative but to follow her.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ruined
another
evening for you, m’lord,” Diana said sweetly.

“So many people are in town, I vow, London must be deserted,” Prudence declared at breakfast.

As Diana glanced through the calling cards, she saw that Peter Hardwick’s was among them. It wasn’t Peter’s face who sprang full-blown to her mind, however; it was his brother the earl’s. He had been ready to throttle her yesterday in the dress shop. She had given him an eyeful and he had certainly looked his fill. Diana had the satisfaction of knowing her looks put those of the older woman with him in the shade.

“Peter was most disappointed that you were not at home when he called. I must say I was quite put out by your behavior, Diana. A respectable lady does not go out walking alone, even in a pedestrian town like Bath.”

Diana quickly changed the subject. She realized Prudence would monopolize every moment if she didn’t devise a plan to outwit her. “Prudence, I’ve been thinking, why don’t I get you one of these marvelous things they call a Bath chair? I’ll push you everywhere and then you won’t have to walk.”

“Bath chairs are for old people! I wouldn’t be caught dead in one. I’m not an invalid, I’m not decrepit. I’m perfectly capable of walking about Bath. In fact, my hip feels better already.”

“There must be something in the air, it is most salubrious,” Diana said with a straight face. “Well, are we off for a dip this morning?” Diana said briskly.

Prudence hesitated briefly, then squared her shoulders and declared just as briskly, “We most certainly are. Doctors’ orders cannot be ignored.”

As they made their way across Westgate Street, they were an odd-looking couple. Prudence sailed along in Bishop’s blue bombazine, which wasn’t blue at all, but a peculiar shade of purple, while Diana wore jonquil brocade. Prudence had insisted they both wear their powdered wigs and large bonnets with ostrich plumes. Since Diana knew they would be removing their clothes at the baths, she had not dared wear the delicious red corset, but had donned an old-fashioned one instead.

Diana was looking forward to visiting the rectangular Cross Bath, where stone faces of Roman gods lined the walls and statues of Apollo and Coronis gazed at the bathers from alcoves set in the walls. Prudence, however, had made up her mind that they would visit the Queen’s Bath, and that was that.

She maneuvered the steep narrow steps leading down to the chalybeate springs with amazing dexterity. “Faugh! What is that noxious odor?” she demanded as they walked through a cloud of vapor.

“That is sulphur you can smell,” Diana explained.

“Why on earth haven’t they done something to purify the water of the stenching stuff?” Prudence demanded.

“It is the sulphur and other minerals in the water that make them medicinal,” Diana explained as if to a child.

A female bath guide led them down a covered passage into a room with fireplaces and told them this was where they could leave their clothes. When she brought them long, high-waisted shifts of brownish linen with elbow-length sleeves, the corners of Prudence’s mouth turned down. The thought of removing her hat and wig in public was anathema to her, but the attendant assured her all the ladies kept
their usual head gear intact. Diana, on the other hand, felt totally ridiculous in powdered wig and ostrich feathers and fervently prayed she would not bump into Peter Hardwick, or worse, his brother the earl.

Prudence shuddered as Diana helped her into the tepid water. Her face had taken on the expression of a gargoyle and the distaste she felt at the whole exercise of a medicinal bath was indelibly stamped upon her countenance for all the world to see.

Diana was willing to bet this would be the fastest cure on record. In fact, Prudence would likely insist it was a miracle. Diana could hardly wait until her aunt visited the Pump Room and tasted the iron in the chalybeate spring water. After today Diana was sure Prudence would divide her time between the Parades and the Assembly Rooms, and to get time alone, all Diana would need say was that she was going to the baths!

By the time they arrived back in Queen Square, Peter Hardwick awaited their return. “Welcome to Bath, ladies. I missed you yesterday,” he said pointedly, taking Diana’s hand to his lips and lingering over it in a proprietary manner. “I’ve come to invite you and your aunt to the Wiltshire Assembly Rooms tonight.”

“Dear boy, we should be delighted,” Prudence accepted immediately. “And Diana is so looking forward to an invitation to Hardwick Hall. The Elizabethan period is her very favorite, is it not, my dear?”

“One of them,” Diana murmured, blushing profusely because Prudence was putting him on the spot.

“I know it is highly improper to leave you alone, but I’m sure I can trust you, dear boy.”

Prudence was so transparent in throwing them together that Diana blushed once more. The moment she quit the room, Diana apologized. “I’m so sorry, Peter. I have no intention of storming Hardwick Hall.”

He looked wounded. “Diana, it is my dearest desire that you will visit the ancestral home. I want you to come tomorrow—early. I want to spend as much time as I can with you.”

“What about your brother? Isn’t he entertaining at the moment?” Her heart thudded whenever she thought of him, and even though she tried, she could not control the emotions he stirred in her.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Peter assured her.

“But I saw him with a charming redhead yesterday.”

“That would be the Widow Vixen. Good God, she isn’t staying at the hall. She’s his—that is, she’s—”

“I know exactly what she is.”

“Then you’re not as innocent as you look,” Peter said, his voice growing husky. He captured her hand again and squeezed it. “Only prospective brides are invited to the hall.”

Diana could not escape his meaning. Though she was vastly flattered, she could not help feeling the jaws of a trap were beginning to close on her. “Tomorrow is impossible, I’m afraid,” she temporized.

“I shan’t leave until you promise to come,” he vowed.

Her amethyst eyes widened as she saw him bend his head to her with deliberate intent. She only had time to draw in a swift breath before his lips were on hers. She felt no romantic stirrings whatsoever, but she was surprised at the gentleness of the kiss.

When she withdrew her lips from his, he whispered, “When will you come?”

“Soon,” she promised.

“How soon?” he pressed gently.

“The day after tomorrow.”

Peter shook his head. “Not nearly soon enough.” He captured her shoulders and drew her even closer. His lips brushed hers. “Tomorrow,” he insisted.

Diana found it difficult to think of a plausible excuse he would believe. “Prudence keeps me on a string. She
came on the orders of her doctor to take the medicinal waters and I have to accompany her.” Diana wondered why in the world she was making excuses. She would much prefer visiting an Elizabethan manor house to wearing a hideous canvass robe and standing in tepid water.

“Prudence seemed anxious to come—shall I pull the bell rope and invite her?” He took a threatening step toward it.

Diana’s eyes brimmed with amusement that he had outwitted her. “You are a devil, Peter Hardwick. I concede graciously, we shall come tomorrow.”

“And stay overnight,” he insisted. “To fully appreciate Hardwick Hall, you must walk along her parapet walls in the moonlight, ride through her hunting park in the dawn mists, and of course sleep in the chamber that the Virgin Queen once occupied.”

Diana’s cheeks glowed. “You win, Peter. I’ll bring an overnight bag, but only on the condition that you spare me the assembly tonight.”

Peter grinned. “They are the most god-awful things. It will be my pleasure to spare you.” The triumphant smile reached all the way to Peter’s eyes. “I shall pick you up at eleven so we’ll be in time for lunch.”

When he departed, Diana could hear Prudence in the kitchen still giving orders and waited until she emerged. “You’ll be pleased to know that Peter issued an invitation to Hardwick Hall.”

“Did he include me in that invitation?”

“Of course he did.”

“Ah, the dear boy. His manners cannot be faulted. When are we to go?”

“Tomorrow. We are invited to stay overnight to enjoy the full hospitality of an Elizabethan hall. Peter didn’t sound too keen about the assembly tonight, so we’ll have lots of time to get ready for tomorrow.”

“An invitation to an earl’s home is something that doesn’t come along every day. I shall need Bridget as well
as the upstairs maid to ready my wardrobe and pack the things I shall need for such an occasion.”

The moment Prudence left the room, Diana slipped from the house. She made her way to the river to watch the swans. The Avon was both wide and deep as it rushed on its way to the Bristol Channel and the Celtic Sea. She imagined the sailing vessels of the Celts, the Vikings, and the warships of the Romans with their great oars. She saw two barges piled with golden Bath stone and realized they must be from the Hardwick Quarries. As she looked about her at the magnificent Georgian buildings, she wondered how many of them had been built with stone from those same quarries.
The family must be exceedingly wealthy and it must be old money,
she thought. She’d look up the history of the Earls of Bath when she went to the library and learn how they had come to own an Elizabethan manor.

For the rest of the day it was Mark Hardwick who insinuated himself into her thoughts. He was a dark, dominant, and dangerous man. Just the type of male she daydreamed about. He stood out from his peers in vivid contrast. To Diana he seemed the antithesis of a Georgian fop. In fact, he suited another century far better than this one. He would make a magnificent medieval warrior or an Elizabethan explorer. When she fell asleep that night, it was not the gallant young Peter Hardwick who insinuated himself into her dreams, but the darkly arrogant earl.

As Peter’s sleek carriage horses bowled along, following the River Avon as it wound away from the center of Bath and up into the northern hills above the town, Prudence inquired fatuously, “Will the earl be in residence?”

“Er … no, I’m afraid my brother is away at the moment. He is a magistrate of Somerset and was called to Bristol.”

“What a pity,” Prudence lamented. “I was hoping this visit would give Diana the opportunity to mend her fences
with his lordship. That wretched misunderstanding about the library was most unfortunate.”

Diana cleared her throat but managed to keep a wise silence. There was a good deal more between them than the business of the library! Whenever they met, sparks flew between them, and though Diana wished it were otherwise, she knew she felt a fatal attraction toward the wrong brother. She was vastly relieved that she and the earl would not be spending the night under the same roof.

From the moment they turned in at the ivy-covered gatehouse and swept up the long drive, Diana lost her heart to Hardwick Hall. Peter saw the reverent look in her eyes and knew he was more than halfway home. As the crested carriage rolled to a stop at the front entrance, the major-domo and two footmen hurried out.

“I have a fabulous idea.” Peter turned to Prudence. “I shall leave you in the capable hands of Mr. Burke, while I show off the grounds to Lady Diana.”

“Don’t worry about me, Peter, I shall make myself at home. Run along, children.”

Diana could hardly believe her ears. As Peter lifted her down from the carriage and led the way toward the formal gardens, she said, “You have the wretched woman eating out of your hand.”

He stopped and looked down at her. “I know just how to stroke a female,” he murmured huskily.

Diana’s cheeks felt too warm, and a prickling sensation ran along her spine. Though Peter had a knack for saying things that were wickedly improper, they did not excite her, they caused her to put up her guard. She admonished herself not to trust him too far, but as the beauty of the Elizabethan garden with its herbaceous borders claimed all her attention, happiness filled her heart.

They explored the dove cotes, the orchard with its ancient beehives, the Tudor water garden, and watched the proud peacocks strut about the velvet lawns. When they came upon a privet maze, copied after the one at Hampton
Court, Diana couldn’t resist it. Peter sat down on a carved bench. “Go on, explore,” he urged. “If you haven’t found your way out in five minutes, I’ll come and rescue you.”

Within the first minute Diana lost her way, which thoroughly enchanted her, of course. The privet hedge was too high to see over and too dense to peek through. After many wrong turns and doubling back, she found its center. There sat Peter awaiting her.

“You fraud,” she said, laughing, “you promised to wait outside.”

“And pass up the chance to be private with you where none can see my amorous advances?”

Diana knew if she ran it would only issue a teasing invitation for him to chase after her and catch her.

Peter moved toward her purposefully and pulled her into his arms. “I should claim some forfeit before I let you go; it’s traditional.”

“What sort of forfeit?” Diana inquired, standing perfectly still in the circle of his arms.

“You must remove an article of clothing,” he said outrageously.